Book One: Death
by HunterBerserkerWolf
Summary: At a young age, Harry becomes one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The young Pale Rider must reunite the Horsemen but first he must overcome his own trials and reclaim his artifacts all while still at Hogwarts. Features an Independent Ravenclaw Harry, no Golden Trio, a realistic Dumbledore, and a bunch more magic involved.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no profit off of this story

Book 1: Death

Chapter 1

The growing child sat up in his bed and slowly stretched his body out, twisting it to get everything to pop. A wave of his hand and his wardrobe flung open. A second wave and his clothes came out to him. He could do that little parlor trick all day and not feel tired, but the fact of the matter was that it felt good to his body, feeling that rush of energy flowing through him. This was Harry Potter.

He wore a pair of black sweats and a black tank top. His body was lean, having no baby fat to speak of. And that was the way he liked it. He laced up the black trainers and stood up, just about to head outside when he heard a caw.

He turned to the black crow with red tipped feathers sitting on a stand on the desk in his room. He moved over to the window. "Sorry Dust." He said softly. He opened the window and gently petted its head before watching it take off out the window.

He then headed down the stairs and outside, locking the door behind him with a key hanging around his neck. He breathed in the crisp cold air of the morning. Everything looked to be the same at Number 4 Privet Drive. It was all normal. The other child of Number 4 was simply doing his morning workout.

Morning in that it was just barely cracking dawn.

He didn't let that stop him though as he took off at a hard run. Bright green eyes kept a focused look on his surroundings as he ran. Nonstop he ran, right up to the playground that he would avoid like the plague during the daytime.

Up along the bench, jump off, grab the tree limb and swing over to the bleachers. Up and down he raced up them using faster footwork. He leapt off the top and landed in a roll at the last set he could go up. He ran up the see saw, jumping from the top before it could hit the ground. He raced over to the monkey bars and he went up the three short rungs before he grabbed the first rung. He turned himself around and tucked in his legs and knees carefully before starting to swing. In a show of flexibility and strength, he got himself up over the bar and released, twisting himself in the air to land on the monkey bars. He landed awkwardly but he paused then.

Dust landed on his shoulder with a caw, flaring its wings out. "I know." He said softly to the crow, petting it on the head. "I'm as good as I'm going to get here."

With a sigh, he set to work finishing up his workout routine. This he hadn't changed very much. He didn't want a bulky body, he wanted something toned and streamlined so he could run when he needed to run. Being out of breath was never a good idea.

It wasn't long before he went back home. His workout clothes went into a hamper. Then he went and took a shower before he dressed once more. A pair of jeans and a nice black polo shirt adorned his body. He made his way downstairs, slicking his wet hair back. The other occupants of the house were still asleep.

In the kitchen, he quickly set to work starting breakfast. It was the only remnant of his old life that he didn't get rid of. He actually quite enjoyed cooking. It didn't take long though for the other members of the household to come down.

His eyes were drawn to the large mass of an individual that he was once forced to call his uncle. He poured the man a mug of coffee with three sugars and two scoops of creamer. The man muttered something under his breath, but he took the source of caffeine anyways. He then gave the man a plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns with two pieces of toast.

Next was the taller woman that he had once called his aunt. She too got the same breakfast, but not the coffee. Vernon would be leaving for work soon and would undoubtedly need the caffeine.

Lastly was Vernon and Petunia's darling son, Dudley. He was as squat and large as his father. He got the same breakfast as Petunia did, none of them saying a word of thanks or a word to Harry as he continued to cook.

He chose some toast, a bit of bacon, and eggs for himself with a glass of juice. His family had long since not spoken out of line to him, especially regarding Dust who sat diligently on his shoulder.

The sound of the mail flap drew his attention and he set his half eaten plate down. He went to retrieve the mail, expecting something around this time. He bent down to pick up the stack and quickly flipped through them. "Bill, bill, bill, letter from Marge... Ah…" Harry smiled down to the thick envelope he received with flowing green handwriting on it that read '_Harry James Potter, The smallest bedroom, Number 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey.' _

Harry stepped into the kitchen briefly to put the rest of the mail on the table beside Vernon before he spoke up. "It came." He said simply before turning on his heel and heading up to his room.

He gathered his few belongings. Really it was just a few changes of clothes and a few books. These went into an old ruck sack. Harry then headed back downstairs to find Vernon waiting for him, briefcase in hand. Vernon was obviously torn between unhappiness and absolute glee.

Once outside, Harry petted Dust on its head. "Fly." He told it as Dust launched from his shoulder. Harry then got in the car with Vernon putting the ruck sack at his feet. From it, he pulled out an old ball cap and put it on his head, allowing it to cover the trademark scar on his forehead.

Harry then stared out the window while Vernon drove to London. He found himself thinking back to that eventful day three years previously.

-_Flashback-_

_Harry found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him from Dudley's gang. They were entertaining their favorite pastime of Harry Hunting. He was faster than most of Dudley's gang, including Dudley himself. Unfortunately, they also had a tendency to chase him down on their bikes. They'd take their time with it too._

_Harry leapt over a park bench and made his way through the playground, desperately trying to get away from Dudley and his gang. Dudley was usually with them and he managed to keep them from going too far with Harry. But sometimes, like today when Dudley was sick, they were left to act by themselves. It was these times that he really got hurt._

_A loud caw caught his attention and he looked up to see a crow flying low overhead, circling around Harry like a messenger of some sort. Harry swallowed, desperately hoping that it wasn't the messenger he was thinking of._

_But because he was paying attention to the crow, he ended up bumping into a stranger, getting knocked over. He heard the tires screech and brake to a halt as Dudley's gang came up on him. They must have gotten tired._

_The fluttering of a crow's wings brought Harry's attention to the stranger he had bumped into. It was a broad shouldered man that wore a three piece business suit. His hair was jet black and slicked back from his face. He had just a hint of stubble on his jaw and he had dark brown eyes. All in all, he looked completely normal if only rich. Except, the crow was sitting on his shoulder, looking down at Harry._

"_Hey Mister," one of Dudley's goons said moving up. "That Freak bothering you?"_

_The man glanced down to Harry for a moment before he glanced up to the gang of eight year olds on bikes. "Children like yourselves should go play." The man said in a deep gravely voice._

_The group glanced about themselves before they moved away, not wanting to get in trouble with an adult._

_The man sat down on a park bench and hauled Harry up by the back of his shirt. Harry was sat down beside the man. "There we go little one, no harm, no foul. Tell me, why do they call you a Freak?" He asked._

_Harry bowed his head, sure that his answer would cause this man to give him problems. "I make things happen. Strange things that can't be explained and I don't know how." Harry said._

_The crow gave a loud caw and the man looked thoughtful. "So you _are_ gifted." He said. He glanced to the crow that cawed again. "If you're sure?" he nodded to himself. "Tell me little one, how would you like to take care of Dust here?" he asked petting the crow on its head. "He's in need of a good home and he says you would be best for him."_

_Harry glanced up to the crow and while he knew Uncle Vernon would not allow him to keep Dust the Crow, he nodded anyways. He smiled slightly as he felt the crow fly over to his shoulder._

"_I need to go now." The man said and stood up, heading off._

_Once out of sight, no one saw the man turn to ashes that blew away with the wind._

-_End Flashback-_

That day, Dust became Harry's familiar and the crow explained… well everything really. It was a lot to take in until the crow, hearable only to Harry, had gone to great lengths to offer Harry proof of who , and what he was.

That day, Harry became a Wizard, even if only a fledging one. But he also became Death, tasked by a Higher Power to bring about balance once more. But Dust had been quite adamant to the young Avatar of Death. He could not find his three siblings until he found his trusty pale horse, Despair.

It was also that day that the status quo changed around the Dursley household. Harry was no longer a slave and would no longer be beaten. He got the small bedroom. He was treated as a house guest. An unwanted house guest, but a house guest nonetheless.

And in return?

"Turn here." Harry said and Vernon turned at the street ahead. "Two spots ahead to the left." Vernon pulled into a spot. Harry got out of the car and Dust soon fluttered down onto his shoulder. Harry moved around with his rucksack to look in on Vernon.

"Well where is it boy?" Vernon asked, glancing around.

"Don't worry about it Vernon. As per our agreement for the last three years however, I will never darken your doorstep without being asked again of my own free will, this I swear to you. I will not initiate contact with you, or your family, of my own free will, this I also swear to you." Harry reached up and plucked a feather from Dust and passed it off to Vernon. "If I return to your home, assume that it is not of my own volition. I wish for you to burn that. It will call Dust and direct him to me. I will then leave again." Harry watched as Vernon took the black feather with a red tip. "Good-bye Vernon. You were never family, and your home was never my home, but you are a respectable businessman, I will give you that much." Harry turned on his heel and headed into the Leaky Cauldron, leaving Vernon to drive off to work.

Harry tugged the ball cap a little lower before heading inside. Immediately he was assaulted by the smell of burning wax, ale, burning wood, and cooking breakfast. It smelled how an old fashioned tavern would probably smell. Though he was thankful for the distinct lack of smells of bodily fluids.

Harry shifted around the crowds carefully, not wanting his cap to be knocked off his head. He kept one hand on the bill and his head bowed slowly. He made his way to the barman. "Excuse me sir," Harry said adding a touch of meekness to his voice.

The barman glanced up and smiled seeing the young child. "How can I help ya Lad?" he asked.

Harry swallowed for effect. Dust had told him that by acting innocent would likely endear him to most witches and wizards. "I received my Hogwarts letter, but my guardians are non-magical folk, so I don't know how to get into the Alley to get my supplies."

The barman nodded softly. "Come along then." He told Harry and led him around to the entrance. "Three up, two across." He said tapping the bricks in order with the butt of his wand so it didn't open. "D'ya get that Lad?"

Harry nodded softly. "Three up, two across." He repeated, tapping the bricks in order with his finger, though he made a show of jumping to touch those at the top.

The barman then tapped the bricks with his wand properly. Harry was the left alone as the Gateway to Diagon Alley was opened up. He stepped inside, once more holding onto the bill of his cap and the strap to his rucksack. Dust even pulled traitor on him from the crowd, flying above it all straight down the Alley.

Harry made his way through the throng of people. There was some pushing and shoving and it was a slow effort to get down towards the tall marble building at the end of the main alleyway. He glanced up to the warning on the front of Gringotts.

"Traitor." He said to Dust as the crow landed on his shoulder. It responded with a caw.

Harry then stepped into the bank. There was on Teller open and another Wizard was languidly making his way to it. Harry strode powerfully towards the Goblin. Not running, but walking with long powerful and confident strides. Or at least, as powerfully as his eleven year old body could muster. He made it first and he held his hands behind his back while the teller worked on some parchment.

"May I help you?" The goblin asked sounding notably disinterested.

"Perhaps you can." Harry said simply. "I would like to speak with the Potter Family Account Manager at his earliest convenience."

"Name." The goblin said, getting another piece of parchment.

"No." Harry said simply and politely, or as politely as he could muster. "Names have power Master Goblin, especially with Magic."

The Goblin glanced up at Harry at these words and a slow smirk graced his mouth. It was quite unnerving to see a Goblin smirk. "Well said young Wizard. Very few remember that rule." He stamped the parchment and put it into an oaken box that gave a ding. "Unless you have more business to attend, you will need to wait for the Potter Family Account Manager."

Harry inclined his head respectfully before he turned on his heel and strode away from the teller to sit down.

Harry drew a book out and began to read it as he waited. He wasn't sure exactly how much time passed between when he sat down and a Goblin was standing in front of him. "This way." The Goblin said, prodding his leg to get his attention.

Harry rose and tucked the book back into his rucksack and followed the Goblin. He was led into an office that had a bookshelf on one side and a set of armor on the other. In the middle was an ornate desk that the Goblin took a seat behind, clasping his long fingered hands together. "Have a seat."

Harry sat down across from the Goblin that seemed to bore into him with strangely green eyes. Harry didn't say a word, knowing the Goblin was looking for something, but Harry wasn't going to give it his name either.

Like he told the Goblin out front, Names held power.

"I am the Potter Family Account Manager Rotgut, Battle Chief of Clan Rot, and Head of the Finance Division of Gringotts Goblin Bank." The Goblin said after a long moment of silence.

Harry dipped his head, acknowledging that the Goblin had given his name and title. "I am Harry James Potter, Scion of House Potter, and the Avatar of Death." He offered in return. It was often a sign of equality, and failing to give your name and title to someone who had just done so was a sign of grave insult.

The Goblin's face went through a myriad of emotions before finally setting on stoicism. "How can I help you Mr. Potter?"

"I'm surprised you took me at my word Master Rotgut." Harry said. "I was expecting some sort of ritual that would identify me."

"If you are brave enough to call yourself the Pale Rider, then I have no doubt in my mind you are who you say you are. I am old enough to remember the previous Pale one. He would have gutted you where you sit before the wards around Gringotts were even alerted to his arrival." Rotgut said quite seriously as he shifted some parchments on his desk to get to things a bit better.

Harry nodded slowly. He had not known that about the previous Rider, which meant he had quite the name to live up to. "I would like to get the Potter Vaults moving once more, the businesses booming and back under the control of the Potter Family. I also do not have a key to any of my vaults, and I would be willing to pay to have copies made and the previous set destroyed."

"We at Gringotts can help you with that Mr. Potter. However, I would like to iterate that since you are under the age of Majority and have not been emancipated, you can only access your Trust vault for funds necessary to shopping." Rotgut explained, working with a quill and parchment, jotting down what Harry wanted.

"Has my Hogwarts Tuition already come out of the Trust Vault?" Harry asked curiously.

Rotgut wrote down some information on a parchment and deposited it into a black wooden box. It took but a moment before there was a soft ding and a smoking piece of parchment was shot back out. Rotgut grabbed it and opened it. "Indeed, it was taken out just a week ago." There was a second ding and another sheet of parchment shot out. Rotgut grabbed them. "Wait a moment…" Rotgut's tone took a far more dangerous tone.

"What seems to be the problem?" Harry asked curiously. If this goblin was going to be in charge of his finances, he needed to talk with it about any problems in his finances.

"A thief is the problem Mr. Potter, however that oversight will be rectified before you leave my office." Rotgut said, scribbling some information down on some more parchment. He then deposited it into the box and it gave a ding. "Your parents paid for all seven years of your Hogwarts Tuition before their untimely demise Mr. Potter. You are being refunded the tuition taken out a week ago."

Harry nodded slowly at Rotgut's explanation. "Is there anything I need to do?" he asked.

"No Mr. Potter, there is not." Rotgut then caught a parcel that ejected from the box. He tore it open. "I shall hold onto the main vault key for the time being Mr. Potter." Rotgut held up the ornate golden key and put it into a box. "Please press your thumb on the lock."

Harry pressed his thumb to it and gave barely a sound as his thumb was cut. He heard the lock click into place and soon Rotgut placed it on one of the shelves. "Not even every Goblin and Human in Gringotts' employ could open that box without your blood Mr. Potter, and it won't leave this office." The goblin explained. Then he moved back to his desk and passed Harry a bronze key. "That is the key to your trust vault."

Harry glanced to the key as he picked it up. He was thinking. "When does my trust vault refill from the main vault?" he asked curiously.

"Once a year Mr. Potter."

Harry glanced to Rotgut. "I would like to withdraw everything down to five Knuts and then transfer it into another vault, I also ask that any spare key tied to the trust vault be kept active. I want those trying to steal from my vault know that I know they are stealing from my vault. I'd say keep the keys active for six months before destroying the spare keys."

"I take it that you wish to continue this transfer of money from the trust vault to this spare vault annually Mr. Potter?" Rotgut asked, jotting more information down on his slip of parchment.

"Yes, I would Master Rotgut. I know that Trust vaults have a maximum amount they're allowed to carry. In the case I need to access more money than my trust vault allows, I am... well out of luck." Harry said.

Rotgut pulled another parchment and quill from his desk and handed it to Harry. "Sign here, here, and initial here and here." Rotgut marked the spots with his quill.

Harry accepted the self-inking quill and did as asked, signing where necessary and initialing where necessary. He then handed that back to Rotgut who put it into the box on his desk. A rumble occurred before a key shot out. Rotgut then passed that to Harry.

"The vault of Harry James Potter has a current balance of Five thousand galleons, with the reduction of Five Knuts that's to remain in the Trust Vault." Rotgut said.

Harry nodded and stood up. "Then I best go get a withdraw, shouldn't I?" he asked.

The goblin stood up and nodded. "A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Potter. You have a sharp mind, I look forward to seeing the business ventures you make. I will forward the paperwork to you later to get all the Potter holdings out of stasis. It will take roughly a year to make it happen."

Harry nodded and turned on his heel to walk out. Rotgut was very good, because by the time Harry made it to the main area of Gringotts, another Goblin was waiting to take Harry down into the mines.

Harry stopped at his personal vault and withdrew five hundred Galleons. He counted each and every one of them as he placed them into the bag that held count of them. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Goblin enchantment, he wasn't going to put it past the Goblins to have a Galleon or two… slip. After all, Goblins were in the business of making money.

Harry then took a stack of ten galleons and handed it to the Goblin. "I need you to take me deeper."

The Goblin held the stack of ten galleons, shifting them in its hand as it watched the door to the vault lock. "Why and where?" he asked.

"I'll tell you which way it is." Harry told the Goblin. "As for Why… I feel something… something I can't properly explain."

"No skin off my back." The Goblin said before getting in the cart. That phrase was quite literal with the Goblins. Still, the Goblin followed Harry's direction, even going through the enchantments to dispel disguises.

Harry heard Dust caw a warning. Harry gently petted its head feeling the bone dry feathers. "I know." He told Dust softly. "Patience." Dust hated being underground. But Dust was feeling the darkness that Harry was.

It was Death Magic in its ugliest form.

Harry told the Goblin to stop and got out of the cart. He strode forward until he could glance ahead. He saw the dragon guarding the vault and narrowed his eyes. He could produce an Aura that gave anything captured in it a fright. But he wasn't sure if he was powerful enough to do it to a dragon.

"Any closer and I'd have to consider you attempting to steal something from that vault." The Goblin just behind Harry mentioned. "And that would not be a pretty thing."

"I feel something from that vault Master Goblin." Harry said respectfully, turning to look at the Goblin. "Some dark and ugly magic."

"Unless you can identify it exactly, I'm afraid there is nothing we at Gringotts can do about it." The Goblin said. "There is a very specific list of objects we will not hold; everything else, no matter how dark, can and will be kept safe by Gringotts Bank."

Harry glanced back at the vault in question. He could not identify the magic of the object. He didn't know what it was, just that it was unnatural and connected to death in some way. "Then let us be on our way Master Goblin." Harry said moving towards the mine cart.

It wasn't long before Harry was outside of the bank, his cap back in place as he began to walk around the Alley, glancing at all the different stores. Finally, he made his way into the Post Office. He sent his reply with his intent to go to Hogwarts off before moving on.

First things first, he needed a wand.

-_Scene Break-_

Olivander's seemed to be the stop. Inside, he headed to the counter and lightly rang the bell. While he waited, he stroked Dust's back a bit, thinking intently.

"Ah yes, Mr. Potter, I thought I might someday see you." Harry's attention was drawn to a white haired wizard. "I remember your mother and father buying their first wands. Your mothers was Willow with a Unicorn hair, swishy… It was good for charm work." The man began to draw boxes from the shelves, placing them on the counter. "Your father on the other hand had Mahogany with a Dragon Heartstring Core. Flexible but sturdy, good for Transfiguration."

"You must be Olivander." Harry said, crossing his arms slowly.

"I am." The white haired wizard said, looking over Harry's appearance. "And you Mr. Potter, like your parents before you, will undoubtedly be a challenge. Your father must have been in here for three hours trying wands before we found one that liked him. Your mother on the other hand, I admit, was mostly my fault. She told me the wand that called to her at the very beginning. I had her try wands for an hour and a half before she grabbed the one that was right and practically shoved its acceptance in my face." The old man gave a wry grin. "I had hoped to recruit her as an apprentice, alas the Unspeakables got to her first.

"Let us begin Mr. Potter. Your handsome raven will need to remove itself from your shoulder." Olivander then tapped his wand on measuring tape. Immediately, it sprang to life and started to measure Harry's form while Olivander jotted down notes.

Olivander then stopped the out of control tape measure when it tried to measure the distance between Harry's pupils.

"Ash with Unicorn hair, sturdy." The wand maker passed the wand to Harry. "No!" he said taking it back almost as soon as Harry had touched it. "Most certainly not." He passed another. "Cherry with Dragon Heartstring." Once more he passed a wand to Harry only for it to be plucked away.

Harry couldn't help but be amused the longer it went on. It seemed Olivander was having more and more fun the longer it was going on. Even going so far as to jump onto the ladder and letting it slide with him down the shelves.

"I wonder…" The old man said after about thirty minutes. Olivander bent down to a shelf and dug out a black box coming forward with it.

"No." Harry said staring at the box. Something nagged him in the back of his mind. He could not touch that wand under any circumstances. No other wand would accept him if he did.

"Nonsense Mr. Potter, just give it a try." Olivander said, opening the box. "Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches. Sturdy, good at Defense."

"No." Harry said a little more forcefully, making no move to touch the wand. Dust cawed angrily, moving to Harry's shoulder once more. "It would fit me, I have no doubt in my mind about that… but it's like… It would not be right." Harry said, trying to explain.

Olivander looked curious. "No? Well then…" Olivander snapped the box shut and tucked it away. The old man looked curious for a while, looking over Harry's measurements. "I do have… one wand Mr. Potter." Olivander said slowly. "But it's… origins are a bit grim."

Harry nodded slowly. "Go on." He said politely.

"Wands are a good connotation to what a wizard is like." Olivander said, drawing up a stool and sitting on it. "Dragon Heartstring, Unicorn Hair, and Phoenix feather cores are largely regarded as the Big three. They have a connection to life in some way. You have been rejected by every one of those cores, and you have a Crow on your shoulder. This Mr. Potter, tells me that there is something about you that would require me to look in the opposite direction." Olivander then drew a lacquered black box from under the counter and set it on the counter between them

"I do not like this wand one bit." Olivander opened the lacquered box to show off an ivory white wand about ten and a half inches in length. "But as a wand maker, I cannot bring myself to simply break a wand just because of its origins. Yew, ten and three fifths inches, Thestral hair wound around a Nightmare feather."

"Nightmares are extinct." Harry said. The horse of the Wild Hunts, it was said to see a Nightmare was to see Death and be forced into the Wild Hunt. The Clergy had tried to hunt them down to extinction with entire battalions of Wizards trained to fight in the name of God. No one had seen a living Nightmare in centuries.

"Indeed they are Mr. Potter, but on occasion, in a place of strong natural magic quite unlike what you will find here in the Alley or at Hogwarts, you can find a Nightmare's corpse still trying to rot away. I have seen the phenomenon twice in my life, and both times it felt as though I had ten years shaved off my life. This wand came into my possession some time ago from an estate sale, so I do not know who made it, though I would guess someone of my line given the craftsmanship. There are a few differences to what I do, but that could just be because of techniques learned over the generations." Olivander said.

Harry looked to Olivander for a moment before he reached out and took the wand in his hand. A coolness rushed up his arm It felt like a key fitting into a lock and clicking it open. A feeling of ice rushed along his veins, but he didn't feel disturbed by it. In fact, it felt glorious, like he was complete.

It was perfect. It felt right.

"That will be twenty Galleons Mr. Potter." Olivander said told Harry politely. He knew that the wand had accepted the wizard, and the wizard the wand.

Harry didn't even think twice about forking over the money.

Before Harry left, he put his cap back on and headed out, not taking it off again while he went about the work of getting the rest of his school supplies. He had grown tired of the crowds so he began to use his Aura to give a general uneasiness around him. Nothing major, but people just generally moved away from him.

-_Scene Break-_

Finally, at the end of the day he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. While not the finest of accomodations, Harry wasn't going to decline it either. "Excuse me Sir," Harry said in his meek persona while approaching the barman. He had turned off his aura now. "Could I get a room until September the First?"

The barman looked up from his duties and seemed to recognize Harry once again. "Why d'ya need that Lad? Surely ya can go back to ya guardians."

Harry shuffled his feet and dipped his head low. "Well, sir, they… they don't like me much. And I try not to inconvenience them in any way and having to drive all the way back out to London to come pick me up and then to drive all the way back out here the day before would make them angry with me." He mumbled.

"Alright Lad, I can help ya. The name is Tom. It'll be ten Galleons a week, plus an additional two galleons per meal. If ya can't cover it, ya can help me with the cookin' and the dish washin'. Deal?"

"Deal!" Harry said with mock enthusiasm. He should be given an award for his acting. He counted out the Galleons for the stay and paid it all up front. It would leave him just enough of the original two hundred that he pulled out of the bank to go looking for an Owl the next day.

Tom handed a key to Harry and motioned him off, something Harry was all too eager to do. He had an important task ahead of him in life and he couldn't be burdened with having to practice spells, so he wanted to get a jump start on it.

He had to find the other three Riders.

A/N: so Uh.. yeah, just throwing this story out there. Not sure what to expect from it just yet

Yeah, I know it's your standard Independent!Harry story, but I at least got the cliché Gringotts and shopping trip out of the way right off the bat.

Hogwarts Express next chapter! Will Harry make alliances?


	2. Chapter 2

Book 1: Death

Chapter 2

It was finally the day that Harry had been waiting for. September the first, the day he was going to Hogwarts. He woke early and checked his trunk, double checking that he had everything stowed away as well as his robes on top for ease of access.

He had read his books over and over in the weeks since he had started staying at the Leaky Cauldron. In the mirror he looked himself over a bit before he pushed his hair back away from his face, using a bit of a glamour to cause the tips to turn to blood red much like the tips of Dust's feathers.

His ball cap went over his head then, pulled down low enough to cover his scar. He tucked the black dress Muggle style dress shirt into the black slacks. Everything was crisp, clean and neat. He double checked the silver dagger strapped to his forearm before he drew the sleeve down, noting with satisfaction that it was well hidden.

Harry was paranoid, he couldn't help it. And outside the Leaky Cauldron and the Alley, he wasn't allowed to use his wand. Not until the train was on its way

He made his way over to the table and opened the window just past it. He then unlocked the cage and held his arm out. A large European eagle owl with some greyed feathers hopped out onto his arm. It had a wing span of seventy inches and weighed about seven and a half pounds. Dust, from Harry's opposite shoulder cawed at it ruffling his feathers and sticking his wings out. The Eagle owl responded in kind, throwing those massive wings out and giving a bark in return.

"Oi! None of that! Either of you!" Harry barked at both birds. "Ashes, fly to Hogwarts. We'll meet you there." Harry told the eagle owl before letting it out the window and watching it fly off. "And you," Harry looked to his familiar. "Behave."

Dust and Ashes hated one another with a passion, and Harry knew that the only reason they didn't fight was because of him. Ashes was a smart bird, and Dust was his familiar.

Harry shook his head as he picked up his trunk and took it with him down the stairs. He paused at Tom and passed over three Galleons, two for the meal, one for a tip. He ate quickly and calmly, head bowed and looking around him. "Hey Tom, any advice for getting onto the platform?" he asked.

"Touch the pillars until your hand passes through one, that's the one ya want to walk through Mr. Doe." Tom said as he whipped a glass. The man always seemed to be working and Harry wasn't sure how he managed.

"Right, thanks." He said as he finished his food. "And Tom," Harry dropped his tone. "It's not John Doe like I told you, it's Harry Potter." He whispered, holding a finger up to his lips. He then pushed the bill of the cap up a bit so Tom could see his scar. Harry then made his way out of the Inn.

Harry then headed out to the waiting taxi. He had made reservations ahead of time to get one to take him over to King's cross. "Dust, meet me there." He told his crow before letting it fly off. He helped the gentleman put the trunk into the back of the cab.

It was a short twenty minute drive through early morning traffic before Harry got to King's Cross. Dust indeed met him there and settled on his left shoulder. Harry then made his way along each of the pillars, slowly touching each and every one of them. He paused when he felt his fingers pass through what should have been brick.

Harry glanced around at all the non-magical people before he stepped through the Pillar. People were already milling about and the station was filling up. Parents and guardians desperately said their goodbyes. Harry had none of those, so he boarded the train and quickly made his way down the compartments until he came across an empty on.

He took some parchment from his trunk and dipped his finger in an ink well. In big bold letters he wrote 'Knock First.' He did not want to be disturbed, no matter how much tradition it was to sit and mingle with possible future housemates.

Harry blew the ink dry carefully before he stuck it over the window and used a simple sticking spell to keep it in place. He pulled the blinds down and recapped his ink well. The trunk then went in the overhead rack after he pulled a book from it.

He sat down in one of the comfortable seats and opened his book, crossing a leg over the other. If only he could pass the entire train ride in the comfort of silence. It wasn't that he was anti-social, he just wanted to find the other three first than worry about friendship. The other three would be like brothers and/or sisters to him for all of their lives. It was hard to match that.

It wasn't saying that no one else would be like a brother or sister to him for their life, but… He wasn't an optimist really.

About ten minutes after they had started to leave the station there was a timid knock on the door. Harry glanced up from the thick spell book he was reading and marked his page with a bit of scrap parchment before snapping it shut. Manners always left a good first impression.

Standing, he went and unlocked the door before sliding it open. He was faced with a boy his age that wore clothes a bit too big and too ragged to have originally been his. The hair was surprisingly bright red, and the boy's brown eyes showed that he hadn't faced many hardships yet. "Yes?" Harry asked, the one word being used succinctly to convey he wasn't just letting the boy in.

"Everywhere else is full…" the redhead stated. "Do you mind if I sit in with you?"

Harry was tempted to call him out on a bold faced lie. It was a magically enhanced train, surely it accommodated the needs of the students. But after some consideration, he didn't know enough about the enchantments on the train. He wasn't sure if it could expand to accommodate more students or if there was a fixed number of compartments. "Certainly." Harry said and moved out of the way of the door. He even helped the redhead lift his trunk up to the rack.

"I'm Ron Weasley by the way." The redhead said sitting down across from Harry.

"John Doe." Harry said, giving the false name. Like Tom the barkeep before, Ron didn't recognize the obviously fake non-magical name. He would very likely wear that name out as much as possible. "And this is Dust." He gently touched the crow's head. Harry picked up his book and started to read once more.

"What house do you reckon you'll get mate?" Ron asked.

"Don't know, don't particularly care." Harry said

"Better hope not Slytherin." Ron said. "Every Dark Wizard has come from Slytherin."

"Merlin was a Slytherin, and without Salazar, Hogwarts would not have been founded. Or if it was, it would just be a different house that had these 'Dark Wizards'" Harry said already bored of the conversation.

Apparently, Ron was able to pick up on it because he quieted down and simply sat in silence. At least for a little while. Ron seemed much used to talking with someone about anything. "What team do you support for Quidditch?" he asked, almost bouncing in his seat. "I like the Chudley Cannons, I know their seasons haven't been great, but I'm certain it's only a matter of time before they get some talent."

Harry was tempted, very tempted, to throw Ron out of the compartment. But he wasn't going to do that because a boy wanted to talk with someone his own age. But for Harry, his time at the Dursley family home caused him to grow up much faster than he wanted to. He preferred the escape of a good book, he preferred to work and study in absolute silence and he tended not to talk any more than was absolutely necessary for his needs.

It had either been grow up faster, or continue to act like a child with the Dursley's. Once Dust came to him, Harry had chosen the first option with gusto.

Thus, he glanced up with piercing green eyes and stared into Ron's brown eyes. "I don't support any Quidditch team. I don't even know what the sport is. I don't care to know what the sport is. I much prefer mental challenges like chess to team sports. I even exercise by myself, with only Dust at my side."

Harry had hoped to quiet the redhead with his casual dismissal of a sport the redhead was very clearly a fan of. That did not happen however and even more surprising was the next question out of Ron's mouth. "Have you ever played Wizard's Chess?"

Harry glanced up from his book. "Well color me intrigued Mr. Weasley. No, I have never played Wizard's chess."

"I have a board in my trunk, would you like to?" Ron asked, bouncing in his seat again.

Harry stood up and took the redhead's battered trunk down and set it between them. "Dazzle me Mr. Weasley."

The board and pieces were well worn, obviously played quite a lot but Ron set up the board just like regular chess. Except, he called out for his pieces to move. Wanting to simply see what happened, Harry found himself sacrificing a pawn. He heard the pieces calling out for him to do something else, but Harry reaffirmed the move. Ron took it, and his pawn was smashed to rubble before being brushed from the board. "Oh my." Harry said. It added a bit of urgency to the game.

"That's a Wizard's chess." Ron said a little smugly.

And smug the redhead should be. Harry was no chess master. He was quite good, and could take an opponent down quite quickly. He even listened to the advice of his pieces, sometimes using it and sometimes disregarding it. If there was one thing he would change, he would make would be so that the other side couldn't hear what a player was saying. But despite all of his skill and the advice of his pieces, Harry found himself solidly in checkmate.

That was when a knock on the door sounded. Harry stood up and opened it to find a lunch lady with a trolley. "Anything from the trolley dears?" she asked.

"No thank you, I'm all set." Ron looked a bit put off as he held up the hash sandwiches.

Harry tossed two Galleons over at Ron, watching the redhead pluck them out of the air somewhat awkwardly. He flushed a bit and mumbled a thanks as he got some of the offered sweets. Harry fished out two more Galleons and bought a pot of tea.

Harry brought his trunk down to balance the tray of tea with the cups and condiments on without interrupting their chess game. Harry found it fascinating to watch as the pieces pulled themselves back together and stayed that way.

"Why did you give me the Galleons?" Ron asked as he munched on what looked like a wand made of licorice. Unimaginatively, it was called a licorice wand.

"You beat me, fair and square." Harry said as he set up the board once more, this time taking the other side. "I always thought it would be best to have some sort of prizes in games like these, and you Mr. Weasley are an excellent tactician on the board. You could go professional if you'd like."

Ron flushed, his ears burning red as the game started up once more. Ron was quite good at the game in Harry's opinion. It was difficult to tell what he favored. Harry knew he favored his Knights and his Rooks. He absolutely loathed his Bishops, and he tended to save his Queen until he knew she could do as much damage as possible

Ron on the other hand was a complete enigma, and could switch on the fly. Harry thought he was winning until Ron baited him and absolutely crushed him the second half of the game. It was actually rather demoralizing with how badly Ron stomped on him. Harry passed over another two Galleons to the redhead for his victory.

A second knock sounded and Harry glanced up. "Why is this compartment so popular today?" he mused to himself. It wasn't like anyone knew exactly who he was. He opened the door to a rather plain looking girl already in her school robes. She had brown bushy hair and seemed to glance around the compartment a moment. "Yes?" Harry asked.

"Have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost his." She said.

Harry shook his head. "Dust, find it." It didn't mean he wasn't willing to help. He sat down as the crow took off out of the compartment. Harry closed his eyes.

"Oh! You're reading some of the course material already as well?" The girl asked, sitting down near Ron as she saw Harry's book. "Oh, I'm Hermione Granger by the way."

"Charmed." Harry said drolly. "Yes, I am reading the course material already. It is the fourth time I've read that particular book, wanting to make sure I understand the theoretical long before I begin to prepare on the practical. My name is John Doe."

"You're an unknown man?" Hermione asked, sounding amused. "Or your name is embarrassing. I doubt anyone but a Muggle Born would get the joke."

Harry kept his eyes close. "No, my name really is John Doe." He said flatly and bluntly. "My adoptive family had the last name of Doe and named me John as a joke because the orphanage didn't have a birth certificate for me." It was a lie of course.

"And you are?" Hermione's voice changed slightly, indicating to Harry that she turned to look at Ron.

"Ron Weasley." Ron offered.

"One car back, fourth compartment on the left." Harry said suddenly, his eyes opening. It wasn't long before Dust came back and settled on Harry's shoulder.

"How did you know that?" Hermione asked, standing up quickly to go get the toad.

Harry smirked a bit. "Magic Ms. Granger." He offered. He'd keep the fact that Dust was his familiar to himself as long as he possibly could. Due to their bond, Harry could literally see with Dust's eyes. All Harry had to do was close his eyes.

Hermione gave a huff before heading out. It was obvious she didn't like that catch all statement.

"Round three, double or nothing?" Harry asked Ron once the door was closed once more.

Ron nodded enthusiastically as the board was once again set up. "What did you mean by wanting to understand the theory behind the Magic?" he asked.

"I despise subpar work and slacking off Mr. Weasley." Harry said rather bluntly. "I have a goal and I know the first step to that goal. Working towards that goal will not leave me a lot of time on my hands, so I will have to do as much work as quickly as possible while keeping my quality to my standards or better. Since I have gotten to book, I have read it as much as possible while also taking notes on what I have read, jotting down things to ask our Professors about."

Ron nodded slowly. "So what is your goal John?" he asked.

Harry smirked. "That's a secret Mr. Weasley, one I plan to keep for as long as possible."

Ron left it alone and they started play their third game. Harry watched Ron more than the game, looking for any possible tells or bluffs. Ron hid it all behind a mask of smugness at his ability to play Chess. Harry was quite soundly beaten a third time and passed over the four Galleons. He had lost the rough equivalent of forty pounds already.

Harry leaned back, studying the board. He had not derived a method to win against Ron in all three of their games. "You, Mr. Weasley, have a talent. I would talk to a few born of Non-magical parents to make friends. They might be able to get you books on chess strategy and books on Bobby Fischer, a prodigious Chess Player of the Non-magical world."

Ron flushed a bit, his ears turning red once more at the praise. But then he noticed something he had to ask about. "Why do you call Muggles Non-magicals?"

Harry shrugged. "It is accurate enough, and seems less disrespectful than calling them Muggles. They are still human, and as such deserve to be treated with the respect you would give another human."

Harry's attention snapped to the door being forcefully opened with a pompous looking blonde strolling in with two that were obviously the dumb muscle of the Triumvirate. "I am looking for Harry Potter, word is he's on this train."

Harry rose to his feet. "He's not in here. Just Mr. Weasley and myself."

The blonde looked to Ron with cool blue eyes before looking back to Harry. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Malfoy then stuck his hand out.

Harry heard Ron snort. "Manners Mr. Weasley." He said. "Doe, John Doe." Harry accepted the hand shake for what it was.

"Doe?" Malfoy asked. "Are you some sort of Muggle-born?" he asked with obvious contempt.

"Couldn't tell you." Harry lied smoothly, shrugging his shoulders. "My adoptive guardians are Non-magical, yes. But I don't particularly know about my lineage, I'm sure Gringotts will help me but I didn't have the time to go through a lengthy ritual to find my bloodline over this past summer."

Malfoy regarded Harry with reigned contempt. He obviously didn't want to insult a possible pureblood who could be a valuable ally. But at the same time, he was utterly disgusted by Harry's Non-magical upbringing. "You'll find some Wizarding families are better than others, Doe." Malfoy said, glancing to Ron for a moment before back to Harry's eyes. "I can help you there."

Harry regarded the outstretched hand again. "I will need time to consider your offer Mr. Malfoy. Now, you were interrupting a chess game. I can see obvious animosity between you and Mr. Weasley and seeing as he was here first, it is only polite that you are asked to leave."

Malfoy raked a sneer at Ron before he had a smiling façade towards Harry. "Of course, it is only polite. I am also looking for someone, so I best be off anyways." Malfoy then moved out of the compartment with his dumb muscle. Harry closed the door behind him.

Harry sat down across from Ron and set up a fourth game between them. It looked like Ron was quite angry. "What was that about? Telling me about manners?" Ron demanded.

Harry glanced up at Ron. "Manners, Mr. Weasley. These are what separate a civilized individual from an uncivilized individual. Manners and respect, as much as it galls you to give them, must always be shown to those of social equals or superiors. Manners and respect offer a much better impression of an individual. You knocked, seeing a sign, and as such you were admitted and we've had a civilized conversation about chess while playing these wonderful games for four hours now. Mr. Malfoy just barged in without knocking. This gives a bad impression of him and I would not have him staying in here any longer than was absolutely necessary."

Ron was playing a far more aggressive game because of his anger and making a few mistakes that Harry was able to capitalize on. "But it's Malfoy!"

"Yes, and this makes Manners and respect all the more important." Harry said as he took Ron's Queen. "Think of it this way, Mr. Malfoy has a name in the Wizarding World, you can see it in the way he holds himself. He has money and breeding. Imagine you're both at the same position in a company or part of Government, both ready for a promotion. You have a friend that has breeding, money, and a name in the Wizarding World. You're not necessarily great friends, but he puts a word in with your supervisor and Mr. Malfoy's father has put a word in as well.

"This is where Respect and Manners come in Mr. Weasley. Your supervisor sees you calling Mr. Malfoy precisely that in a bland, uninterested tone, where Mr. Malfoy calls you Weasley in his usual condescending tone. The promotion will put you on par with your supervisor. Will your Supervisor promote someone that is condescending to his equal, or respectful to his equal?" Harry asked.

Ron stewed for a while, clearly angry but thinking about what was being said. It was clear though while he had anger troubles, Ron was able to learn from his anger, and Harry's words. Finally, Ron started to play like he had the entire trip and quite soundly beat Harry one last time. Harry passed over another four Galleons.

Harry shifted the empty tea tray around from his trunk. He then got his robes and made quick work of changing throwing them on over his body. He wasn't going to change into the school uniform when his current outfit was inoffensive. Granted, he would wear his uniform every day he was there, but it did not make sense for him to change just yet.

Harry then politely stepped out with Dust when Ron said he was changing into his uniform.

Harry breathed slowly and deeply, in and out in though. While Ron's anger might have made him a candidate for the Rider of the Red Horse, there was no lust for battle. And that was exactly what was needed. There needed to be battle lust, even if just barely restrained.

So Harry checked him off a mental list.

Hermione and Malfoy were checked off the same mental list. They were not candidates for the Horsemen. There would be certain… attributes that the other three would show. It was fine though, he had plenty of time to look for them. Dust had told him that all four would be at Hogwarts this year.

But that was Harry's only hint, which really thinking about it wasn't much of a hint. Would it be only first years? Would it include everyone? Would any of them be a member of the staff?

His thoughts were interrupted when Ron came out. "We're supposed to leave our trunks here. They get taken up to the castle for us." He said.

Harry nodded and adjusted his cap again, noting how out of place it was. He swapped it out for the hood of his robes that he had custom put on there. He took a moment to put the cap in his trunk. He then headed out, keeping his hood down.

"Firs' years, over here! Firs' years, over here!" Harry heard called out, but his attention was drawn elsewhere. Ron was too occupied with the large man to watch Harry slip away.

Harry found himself encountering quite possibly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He ran his hand along its skeletal appearance, feeling the soft flesh of its body. It was obviously a horse of some sort, with beautiful wings. He felt a kinship and familiarity with the creature. Harry found himself getting up onto the pale horse like creature and rubbing the sides of its neck.

He was quite glad for his hood as some of the older students began to point and whisper, with words making their way around. It turned out most people couldn't actually see what he was sitting on unless they had seen Death. And it was a Thestral. Well, Harry liked it. He was riding it up to the castle.

A prefect finally broke things up and told Harry to get down. But seeing as the carriage behind Harry was full, he gently nudged his heels into the Thestral. It began to gallop up the hill, bouncing Harry up and down a bit while his legs stayed tucked in behind the wings.

Harry could honestly care less that the people in the carriage were whispering about what he was doing. He felt alive while he rode the Thestral, like it was right.

When the Thestral came to a stop, Harry slid off of it and petted it gently on the head. "Thank you." He told it softly before moving away. He saw where the boats were coming to a stop and made his way over to them.

"John!" Ron said as Harry made his way closer. "Where did you go? How did you get up here?" he asked.

"A Thestral Mr. Weasley, I rode with the upper years perched on one of Hogwarts' beautiful Thestrals." Harry said, his voice conveying his absolute enjoyment of riding the creature.

"Yeh can see 'em then?" The Giant of a man asked, coming up behind Harry.

"I can." Harry said, having to look up a bit to see the man, but that was okay. His hood was still low enough to cover the scar, and the red tips of his hair were bound to throw anyone off, even if it was the color that his mother had for her hair.

"Would yeh like ter help me feed 'em sometime?"

"I might very well take you up on that offer Mr…"

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts." Hagrid held his hand out.

Harry felt his hand get engulfed by the man's large mitt. "John Doe, I think I would like to help you feed the Thestrals sometime Mr. Hagrid." Harry then stepped aside to let the man pass and continue to lead them inside.

"Here they are Professor McGonagall." Hagrid said to a stern looking woman once they came inside.

And Harry lost interest. With no disrespect to the Professor intended, his mind was still on the Thestrals. It was a hard act to follow really. She would have had to shifted from a cat or something into the stern woman before them for Harry to focus fully on her.

So he only listened with only a half interested ear as McGonagall spoke about the Houses and what they were. How they'd be like family, something about House Points and a cup at the end of the year. It went into what Harry deemed as useless information. McGonagall then left to go see if 'they' were ready for them with a mention to smarten up.

Harry didn't lower his hood.

Some people asked about for Harry Potter, wondering where he was. Some speculated that he was only coming as a formality, that he had somehow been trained by Merlin himself. Some speculated he was coming in style by flying in on an Egyptian Blackscale, never minding that that particular species of Dragon was extinct.

Eventually McGonagall came back and led them in amongst the other students. Harry glanced around, hearing Hermione mention that the ceiling was enchanted to show the outside sky. He ignored it. It wasn't something to do with Thestrals. He felt Dust bat the back of his head with its wings.

Before them sat a stool with a hat placed on top of it. The hat looked quite ragged and mundane to Harry until a seam split open and it started to sing. Harry's back stiffened at its opening verse. "_So the Four come once more to Hogwarts._" But the rest of the verses after that spoke of the Founders and the Houses, so Harry wondered if it might have been a Fluke. Or were the Founders' Heirs there?

"When I call your name, come up and place the Sorting Hat on your head to be sorted into your House. Abbot, Hannah!" McGonagall said loudly and a young blonde went forward, obviously worried.

"_Hufflepuff_!" the hat roared out after a brief moment on her head. The table two to his right erupted with applause for Hannah and Harry noted they had black and yellow colors.

And thus the sorting commenced, with Ron mentioning about how he'd kill his brothers for saying they had to wrestle a troll to be sorted. Harry was slightly amused at that. When his fake name was supposed to be called there was some questions from Ron about it, but Harry gently nudged him with his elbow. The redhead would see why soon enough.

Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Hufflepuff. "Potter, Harry!" McGonagall called out.

Harry lowered his hood and made his way forward. Whispers and silence followed him as he headed to the stool. He stared at it impassively before he sat down and Dust flitted down to his knee.

"Mr. Potter, only Owls, toads, rats, or cats are allowed as Pets here at Hogwarts." McGonagall said.

"Professor McGonagall, Dust is not a pet. Dust is my familiar and you're holding up this ceremony." Harry said in a tight whisper. Unfortunately because everyone was waiting with bated breath, people heard his whisper and began to pass the message that he had a familiar along.

Harry grit his teeth quite audibly as the hat was placed on his head. "_Let's see here… Oh my… Occlumency shields, I haven't seen these in quite some time." _Harry heard the statement and locked down his mind, letting his conscious and memories go to Dust.

Harry was inside his mind as a specter. He couldn't be seen, he couldn't be heard, and he couldn't even be felt. He watched the hat fall to the damp cobblestone of the Labyrinth that he had set up as his defense. "_Right then… here we go…"_ The hat then formed itself a body made of the same tattered leather, with the hat acting as the head. Harry could see the body was just a shell, with emptiness being the core.

The hat then took off running at a wall and simply passed through it. Harry chased after it, quickly over taking the hat. He was using words he had only heard Vernon and Marge use, generally when talking about him. Harry was throwing up defense after defense before the hat, but it just passed right through them.

Harry felt his spectral form yanked back as the Hat made it to the central core of his defense, where he and Dust had merged their conscious temporarily.

It was a dark room with Ivory colored furniture and bookshelves filled to the brim with books. It was impossible to determine which book belonged to Harry and which belonged to Dust. They both sat in a chair before a fire place.

The hat scooped its hat off its body and bowed before placing the hat back on. "_Greetings Pale Rider_." The hat said.

"How did you get in here?" Harry asked, standing up slowly. He was prepared to fight. He had never had his defenses tested like this before.

"_Peace Mr. Potter." _The hat held up both hands. "_When I was created, I was enchanted with enough enchantments to pass unharmed through even an Occlumency Master's barriers. Occlumency won't ever hinder me. However, given that is prying into someone's personal life, the Founders also enchanted me to keep every secret to only the one with the secret. So you being the Horsemen of Death will only remain between you and me unless you tell someone else. Excellent shields by the way, while they would not withstand a direct blast from a Legillims Master, they will hold the passive scans at bay."_

Harry did not like it, but he slowly sat down again. He wasn't going to separate his and Dust's minds though, but he watched the bookshelves morph into two separate ones. One filled with books, the other filled with scrolls.

"_Every defense Pale Rider."_ The hat said knowingly as he went to the books and began to rifle through them, not even reading, just flipping the pages. "_I must sort you properly after all. Quite a bit in here, excellent mind. No shortage of bravery either. Fair cunning, and loyalty to those you deem worth it. To be fair Mr. Potter, you could fit in well with any House of Hogwarts."_

"Except the people." Harry said rather bluntly.

"_Yes, except the people. You bow to no one, why should you? You are Death after all. And there are elements within Slytherin that would expect you to bow. You also cannot tolerate rudeness, a fine trait if I say so myself. No, Slytherin is not the house for you. You would likely have a blood bath within a few weeks._

"_So we come to Gryffindor. Home of the Brave and Courageous. Plenty of Bravery here. Climbing to the top of your primary school with no gear, quite an accomplishment Mr. Potter. But it was not to do anything more than to prove you could do it. Given your silent demeanor and search for the other Riders, I do not think Gryffindor would best suit you._

"_Hufflepuff, there is not much need for me to talk about. You are loyal and unafraid of hard work. You even take it to a whole other level. And for someone you care for you would storm the Gates of Hell itself without hesitation. But you won't open up to just anyone. You like your solitude. No, the house of Badgers is not for you._

"_Which leaves me only one choice, and from what I have seen… Better be RAVENCLAW!"_

Harry was yanked out of his mind to see the house of blue and bronze erupting in cheer. A small professor towards the head of the table stood up on his seat with both fists pumped into the air. "Yes!"

"_One last thing Mr. Potter, the other three have already been Sorted and they are students."_

Harry went to the table, pondering that statement. The hat was helping him find the other Three horsemen in the only way it was allowed to. They were students that had already been sorted.

Harry glanced over the assembled students. That didn't necessarily mean they weren't first year students though.

Harry promptly fell into though, ignoring the questions around him as he sat towards the head of the table. He was going to think more on this matter.

Chapter End

A/N: So Harry has been sorted into Ravenclaw. This is… well it's quite frankly based on the fact that I have one Rider per house.

This won't be a Golden Trio type story. Harry will interact with Hermione and Ron, but he's not going to be 'best mates' with them.

As you can also see, I'm trying very hard not to bash anyone on purpose.

I don't think I need to explain why Harry can see Thestrals.


	3. Chapter 3

Book 1: Death

Chapter 3

Harry lay back on his bed in the dorms, glad for the muffling charms placed on the drapes so that he didn't have to hear the rambunctious actions of the other students. It couldn't be helped after the rather delicious feast as well as the excitement of finally attending Hogwarts. It wasn't that he wasn't excited, rather he just was waiting to do something productive with it and talking with people just wasn't that productive. He had already eliminated his dorm mates based from the other Riders, based solely on their way of speaking.

He still had the rest of his House to Eliminate, an activity that would unfortunately take time.

It was the first night and he was already extremely annoyed at the stares and whisperings. He could barely eat his food with it. He almost threw up his Deathly Aura on full blast to get them to stop looking at him. He settled for turning it on a trickle, making him uneasy to look at.

Once they arrived at the Tower, Professor Flitwick, their Head of House, had announced that he would be meeting with each and every one of them over the next few days to better get to know them on a personal level so that they would feel more comfortable coming to him with any problems or issues. It was fine with Harry, granted he seriously doubted he would be going to him for many problems. Harry's was the next day rather early, which was just fine for him.

Harry was also pulled aside briefly by the squat Professor who explained that Harry was requested to meet with the Headmaster after breakfast. Harry was quite intrigued about this meeting. Harry had done nothing wrong, or at least nothing that he could think of. However, he would go anyways.

"It doesn't matter." He told himself before closing his eyes and forcing himself to get some sleep.

Harry woke up early the next morning and took some time to readjust his trunk to make sure everything was readily accessible no matter what he was looking for. He slipped his wand into the holster on his right hand that would eject it into his hand. He then dressed in his workout clothes and headed out of the Ravenclaw Tower.

As he started to run, he allowed his senses to slowly spread out. There was a lot of magical energy flowing through the castle, even some Death Magic worked into the wards, making everything difficult to pinpoint.

Harry pointedly ignored the paintings that slowly woke up as he did his morning workout. He ran down flights of stairs, he jumped from one set to another. He jumped from one landing down to another, rolling with it before racing back up the stairs, running along the narrow railing.

While he had worked on the routine for three years, after being in the Leaky Cauldron since July the twenty-third, Harry wanted to make sure to shake off all the rust before he went for what would undoubtedly be a challenge.

Just as the sun was rising, Harry made his way back to the Dorm, answering the riddle that the Bronze eagle was giving. He headed to the bathroom and set to showering in a stall with his head bowed and the water beating down on him. He searched out with his senses once more.

A shudder ran down his spine and his eyes snapped open. He stared at the tile floor, turning his head to look pointedly in one direction. "No." he whispered ever so softly. "There are two?" he whispered. "Such foul Magic. Who could have made it?"

This left Harry in a dilemma. He was getting another sense of something like he had encountered from Gringotts, a very foul and ugly source of Death Magic that Harry couldn't name. However he also felt himself drawn to the Third Floor Corridor on the Right hand side that was supposedly 'Out of Bounds to those who do not wish to die a most painful death.'

Harry wondered what Dumbledore was keeping in that corridor that he would promise death on the students. And not just any death, but a very painful one at that. Given who Harry was, and not just being a young rebellious child, he was quite curious about what this Death was. Perhaps Harry could befriend it.

Harry's schedule was already rather full with classes, bringing his Family account and business out of stasis so it was making money properly, homework and studying ahead in Magic, going through his various classmates to figure out who the other Riders were, looking for Despair, and keeping himself in shape. His schedule was a bloody nightmare to be looking through the halls of Hogwarts to find Death Magic artifacts and the Third Floor Corridor mess.

"Fall into a Routine Potter." He told himself as he finished washing up. He then dried off and changed into the school Uniform with robes. He kept his wand and his knife in their sheathes before he head down towards the Great Hall.

He took a seat at the head of Ravenclaw table, making sure that the staff table was to his right. His back was to the Hufflepuffs and that was quite fine with him.

With him sitting there, some food began to pop up on the table, along with stuff to drink. He had tried pumpkin juice the night before and at the smell of it his face screwed up in disgust. It was just some foul drink that he just could not appreciate. He took the orange juice however and got himself a plate with eggs, bacon, and some toast. He grabbed a spare piece of the plain toast to feed to Dust.

As people started to mill in, some of the upper years grumbling about the fact that September the First had fallen on a Sunday that year. On a split second decision, Harry started up his Deathly Aura. It was a drain on his magic, but it was worth it to keep the stares at him down to a minimum.

He ate quietly and fed Dust at the same time. Finally, he drew out a book to start reading with a quill and some ink nearby so that he could jot down questions and circle what he didn't understand. The fact he read a second year book was not lost on him.

Being the Pale Rider meant he would need to advance in his studies as quickly as he could, which would mean he'd be doing a fair amount of self-study work.

By seven-thirty the Great Hall was full, even as loathed to get up as many students were after a lethargic summer. Professor Flitwick made short work of passing out the schedules but he paused at Harry, noticing Harry was working from the second year Charms book. "Are you attempting for a Charms Mastery Mr. Potter?" the short professor asked.

"No Sir." Harry said as he continued to work.

"Then pray tell, why are you going over such theories of magic without having even started the First year material?" Flitwick asked.

Harry glanced up his Head of House and offered a smile that diminished his Aura, couldn't be Deathly if you were smiling warmly. He already liked Flitwick. There was exuberance to him that was quite refreshing. Perhaps it was just Charms Masters in general. "I suppose that will have to wait for our meeting later this afternoon Professor."

Flitwick laughed good-naturedly. "Remember Mr. Potter, you have to see the Headmaster after breakfast. You should be done with your meeting in time to make History of Magic."

"Of course Professor. You'll be there as well, won't you? You are my Head of House after all." Harry said.

Flitwick had paused a moment. Dumbledore had requested to speak with Harry in private. "Of course Mr. Potter, I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about anyways. Now, I've heard a rumor. Is it true that you went by the alias of John Doe while on the Hogwarts Express?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir, that is true."

"Why ever did you do that?" Flitwick asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders slowly. "It's like this sir; I'm famous in the Wizarding World. Likely by the time I die, I'll be even more famous. The Potter Family Account Manager at Gringotts has even gotten a request from the company that produces Chocolate Frogs and more to the point the cards, to have my likeliness printed on Chocolate Frog cards. I still haven't decided how I feel about that. I didn't want to spend seven hours harangued by people wanting to meet the Boy-Who-Lived versus Harry Potter. I didn't want people asking about my scar or about the events of that night. I don't rightly know. So I spent seven or eight hours going by John Doe. It kept people from bothering me. I spent the entire ride with the youngest Mr. Weasley playing Chess, an activity that I quite enjoy. I'm afraid that on the trip back to London this summer, or even this winter, I'll have to be quite… difficult to the other students who will be persistent in speaking with me. All I want is to be left quite alone unless I'm having an intelligent conversation. Asking me to see the scar or about that night is not intelligent. I was a little over a year old, and I'm supposed to know what happened? I don't think so. It is my belief that something my mother did that night was what caused me to survive."

Flitwick took a moment to consider Harry's words before nodding. "Well-reasoned Mr. Potter." He said. "I look forward to a more lengthy conversation with you this afternoon."

Harry inclined his head politely and watched as Flitwick made his way back to his chair at the Staff Table.

Harry started his Aura back up when he felt too many eyes on him and took a grim satisfaction in the way many quickly glanced away as though Harry had glared at them until they did so.

He continued with his book until it was almost time for his meeting with Dumbledore. That was when Harry felt a press against his Occlumency shields and he battened them down tight before lashing back. He didn't see anyone holding their heads in pain, but then again he wasn't experienced in Legilimency. He wasn't a master of Occlumency either, so he couldn't pinpoint the magical signature that had done it. His scar prickled though, but he ignored it in favor of scanning the staff slowly.

He also had his Death Aura up quite high. Any higher and he would start having ramifications.

Students began to file out of the Great Hall and Professor Flitwick made his way over to Harry. "Are you ready Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"As ready as I will ever be." Harry said.

The two walked in silence up to the Third Floor. They went towards the left to a Stone gargoyle. Flitwick paused before it. "Lemon Drops." He said. Harry watched as the Gargoyle leapt out of the way and the two began to ascend the steps one at a time.

Flitwick knocked on the door. "Come in Fillius." Came from inside.

Harry's first impression of the Headmaster's office was that it was lacking. He could feel Dust settle his claws into his shoulders, but Harry didn't mind too much. He knew Dust was prepared to do one of the few attacks he could because they were very clearly in Dumbledore's domain.

Books upon books, instruments upon instruments. The room spoke of a man who was well into over a century of living and studying magic. The portraits of the former Headmasters drew Harry's attention and he frowned after a moment, realizing that none of the dates under the names went back to the time of the Founders. The position of Headmaster seemed like it was a development implemented later on. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Harry noticed the singular chair in the room, like Dumbledore had planned to have just Harry in the room. That wasn't happening.

"Ah Harry!" Dumbledore said quite cheerfully. "Please, sit." He motioned to the chair. "Lemon Drop?" he offered from a bowl of the sweets in front of the desk.

"No thank you Headmaster and I think I'll stand." Harry said, clasping his hands behind his back. "It would be rude of me to sit and force Professor Flitwick, my Head of House, to stand."

"I was hoping to have a conversation with you in private Harry." Dumbledore said, his twinkling blue eyes looking to Harry's green ones.

"Mr. Potter." Harry said simply. "You are not familiar enough with me to have leave to use my first name Professor. As for Professor Flitwick, he is required to be present at all meetings between you and me, Headmaster." Harry said simply.

Dumbledore lost some of the joviality on his face. He even had a look of slight disappointed. "I have heard some disturbing things, Mr. Potter, which I hope you could clear up for me."

"That's not a question Headmaster." Harry said as Flitwick took his seat beside Harry, noting that he was still going to be staying.

"I heard that you could see the Thestral herd." Dumbledore said. "Who did you see die?"

"That is a rather blunt question Headmaster, blunt and personal. I fail to see how that is of any relevance." Harry was not going to give Dumbledore an inch to work with.

"I just want you to know Mr. Potter that you can come speak with me about it. Seeing someone die can be a traumatic experience." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling again and looking like the friendly grandfather type.

"I think if I need anything of the sort, I will speak with my Head of House or with the School Nurse regarding my mental health." Harry already didn't like the man. It wasn't anything that Dumbledore had done wrong or anything like that. Harry just didn't trust how the man had a finger in everyone's pie. He was Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. The man literally had a finger everywhere.

The twinkling effect dimmed a bit. "Why didn't you go with Hagrid and go along with the boats?" Dumbledore asked.

"With all due respect to Mr. Hagrid intended, Professor Dumbledore, I liked the Thestrals more. It was quite exhilarating to ride them." Harry said. There he answered honestly and fully with that one.

Dumbledore's eyes started to twinkle quite a bit this time, as though he had been pleased at the almost childlike answer. Of course, Harry was anything but childlike really. "There seems to be a reversal on your tuition Mr. Potter, do you know what happened?"

"The Potter Family Account Manager has it on record that my mother and father had paid for my Hogwarts Tuition, in full for all seven years, before their untimely passing. I'm sure Hogwarts withdrawing the funds had been an accident." Harry said. He doubted it; it should not have come up through the Headmaster. Still, he'd give the Headmaster an out this time at least.

Dumbledore stroked his beard slowly. "I'll look into it, double check the books myself if I have to." Dumbledore then sat forward, his long fingers clasping together as he stared into Harry's eyes. "I had sent someone to your Aunt and Uncle's home to take you to Diagon Alley on your birthday Mr. Potter. They had said you were no longer staying with them. Would you care to clear that up?"

"No." Harry said flatly, staring into the blue eyes of the Headmaster. "I believe we've covered irrelevant topics already in our conversation Headmaster. You are my Headmaster, not my guardian. Stick to school topics."

"Mr. Potter, I'm just worried about your safety." Dumbledore said, sounding disappointed again.

Harry was about to tell the old man where he could shove it when he felt something press against his Occlumency barriers. With a snarl, he lashed back at them. But Dumbledore didn't flinch and Harry had his wand in his hand. He didn't know many spells, but it was still aimed at the Headmaster. "Stay. Out. Of. My. Mind." Harry said biting off each and every word. "Or I will see you in court. That is twice in the same day I have had someone try to invade my mind and I will not have." Harry didn't even care if he won the court case or not. People would be more wary of Dumbledore if he was taken to court over invading a minor's mind. "My living arrangements are not up for discussion. My finances are not up for discussion. And if you call me into this office again for anything but my education, I will withdraw from Hogwarts."

Harry turned on his heel and walked out. He barely sheathed his wand as he walked. His fury gripped him tight and even Dust was affected by it, literally giving a loud screeching caw at anyone that moved close to Harry. His Deathly Aura was on as high as he felt was necessary and he hid his hands by tucking them into the sleeves of his robes. It'd be best if no one saw his skeletal like hands because his anger was gripping him.

He made it to History of Magic and plopped down in his seat. He took out his books and parchment and ink. He willed his aura down to a more manageable level and counted to one hundred in his mind. He allowed his hands to be seen a bit better, noting they looked slender and pale, but not too off. It was just in time too, as Professor Binns, the Ghost Teacher of Hogwarts was taking roll.

"Potter, Harry?" he asked. He had screwed everyone else's name up with the exception of Harry's. It made Harry sit up a little and watch the Professor.

"Present." Harry said, his tone as monotone as he could manage it.

Binns began to lecture when he had finished roll. Harry tried hard, shaking his head a bit to keep from falling asleep as the Ghost droned on. It was quite possibly the most boring thing he had ever done. Even Dust had fallen asleep.

Still, Harry forced himself to stay awake and take notes on what Binns was saying.

Finally, he concluded his lecture. "Mr. Potter, please remain behind." Binns said as he dismissed the class.

Harry packed everything away and gently petted the sleeping Dust. He wondered what Binns wanted. When everyone was gone, Harry stood up and made his way to the Ghost Professor. "Yes Professor?" Harry asked.

Binns ran his hands over each other. He looked nervous. He took a ghostly tissue from a pocket and rubbed his face like he was sweating. "Mr. Potter…" he swallowed. "I… I mean we, the Ghosts of Hogwarts… We… Know what you are." He managed to get out. "It is why you haven't seen any of us."

It brought back the fact that the night before one of the Prefects had commented it being strange that the Ghosts didn't swoop into the Great Hall to look upon the new First Years.

Harry looked thoughtful, taking in Binns' appearance and actions. "You're terrified of me." Harry said.

"God yes Mr. Potter." Binns said. "I was born a Muggle-born and was a devout Christian all through life and even in Death Mr. Potter. But you…" Binns shook his head and rubbed his arms. "You are the Devourer of Souls. Even talking to you, I run the risk of being consumed. But devouring souls is not your only purpose and it is why I elected to speak with you on behalf of the Hogwarts Ghosts.

"The Ghosts want nothing to do with you Mr. Potter. Even Peeves, a Bloody Poltergeist, wants nothing to do with you and will go out of his way to make it happen Mr. Potter. But I, I beseech you Mr. Potter, set me free please. Allow me to go to my Maker to be judged. I thought Albus would replace me shortly after I died but it has been decades since and I've felt myself decay year by year. It is taking everything I am to even ask this of you Mr. Potter."

Harry sent a mental jolt to Dust who had centuries more knowledge than he did. It was why Dust's memories and knowledge appeared as scrolls in the mind rather than books. Harry pushed his Deathly Aura to maximum once Dust responded. His features turned gaunt, and his eyes seemed to burn with a furious fire. Harry reached up with a pale and skeletal like hand. He placed it on Binns who shivered at the first contact he had had in centuries.

Harry shuddered a little bit. His breaths came out quite visible to himself like steam. He could feel the hunger. The need to feast upon the Ghost and to consume, it gripped Harry like a cold iron fist around his entire body. It was like a seductive whisper in the back of his mind telling him to consume the Ghost.

Binns hadn't been a particularly powerful wizard in life. But he had been no slouch. And that translated into Death. The magical aura around Binns smelled so good. It tasted delicious. It would be so easy to consume it, to take that magic into his body and amplify it.

"**Control yourself young Rider!" **Dust's voice came strong in Harry's mind. "**Free this one, free."**

Harry opened his eyes, never having noticed he closed them. "Cuthbert Binns, I set you Free." Harry whispered and felt the Ghost pass through his fingers.

"Thank you Mr. Potter." Binns spoke softly before he disappeared

Harry felt to his hands and knees shaking with wide eyes. That was the first time that he had ever done that. He didn't even know he had that power. He heard Dust caw, but once again it was more of a sense of what the crow wanted instead of actual words.

Harry gently pet Dust and got back up slowly. He didn't think it would be good to get sick in the classroom. He managed to get outside and breathed a bit easier, his aura completely off and his body slowly returning to normal. Harry never questioned it. It was magic after all.

He sucked in air desperately as he covered his face with his hands. The need to consume Binns had been impossibly strong. Had it not been for Dust, Harry would have begun on a long and treacherous road that would have had him falling over a precipice quite soon.

Harry glanced to Dust. He had never asked, but he was curious now. "How many riders have you been with Dust?" The crow cawed loudly, and Harry nodded. "All of them…" he muttered softly. Every single Rider of the Pale Horse. It was no wonder that Dust knew what was expected of Harry.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry made his way into Professor Flitwick's office just past the Charm's classroom. He knocked softly on the door and waited for the call of 'Enter' before he stepped into the office. He watched as the door locked itself behind him.

Professor Flitwick's office was a rather amazing bit of work to it. Trophies from Dueling tournaments were scattered about, as well as moving pictures showing Flitwick at his absolute best in the dueling. The desk sat lower, along with Flitwick's chair which was perfect for his size. But there was a second desk in front of the smaller one that was normal sized with a normal sized chair behind it.

Harry's attention however was drawn to bits of parchment around on the walls that were framed. Harry quickly recognized them as Charms Essays, brilliantly done Charms Essays that Flitwick had kept. There was even the Essay Flitwick had wrote to gain his Charms Mastery. Harry gently touched the glass of one that had the name of Lily Evans on it.

"The last essay I had ever received from your mother Mr. Potter. Lily was quite the amazing student in charms." Flitwick said with a smile. "She had the highest score in Charms of her year during her NEWT year, and I haven't had another student with her flair since. I hope you'll understand that I sorely hope you have inherited the flair she had."

"I cannot promise anything Professor, but I understand your hope." Harry said as he slowly looked at a few more of the essays before he made his way over to the chair and sat down slowly.

"Tea Mr. Potter?" Flitwick offered as a tea set danced its way across Flitwick's desk at the flick of a wand.

"Please." Harry said and watched as Flitwick poured the tea and levitated it over with the efficiency of a Charms Master.

Harry looked at the dark tea and took a drink and almost coughed it up as soon as it touched his tongue. He set it down carefully and quickly and coughed, even while Flitwick chuckled. "Strong and spicy." Harry said, pounding his chest.

"A Goblin blend Mr. Potter." Flitwick said quite joyously. "It is always amusing to watch people drink it unprepared."

Harry couldn't help but give a bit of a chuckle. However, he raised his cup and offered his Head of House a small salute with the cup before he drank it a little more carefully. It was strong and had a heavy taste of spices.

"Bravo Mr. Potter!" Flitwick said cheerfully. "I think you're the first person in three years to go back for more."

Harry offered an amused grin. "I won't waste good tea Professor, even if it's strong."

Flitwick nodded and he drank his own without the care Harry had to. "I wish to level with you Mr. Potter. During this interview, I will broach some rather personal grounds with you and I want you to be honest with me. Usually I wouldn't do this, but you're somewhat of a unique individual in that you realize that information holds a great deal of power so you play your cards quite close to your chest. So I wish to give you some background information on myself as a show of trust.

"I was born the product of rape." Flitwick started bluntly and rather detached. "My mother was a Goblin and for some odd reason, a Wizard decided to take her and rape her. Perhaps he was drunk? I don't know. I do not hold it against my mother, even if she never wanted me. But because of my mixed heritage, I didn't really fit in anywhere. The Goblins did not see me as one of their own, even if they raised me until I was eleven, and I certainly did not fit in with Wizards."

Flitwick took a drink of his tea. "I quickly came to the realization that if I wanted respect from anyone, I would have to take it. During my time at Hogwarts, I devoured knowledge with such a frenzy that it quickly alienated me from everyone. Not that I wasn't already alienated due to my heritage, but that is neither here nor there." Flitwick waved his hand off.

"At the age of twenty, I had finally managed to get the goblins of my Mother's clan to sponsor me for the Dueling Circuit. At the age of twenty-one, I placed two hundred and fourth on the Dueling Circuit of one thousand competitors." Flitwick said quite proudly.

"However, I broke the terms of my agreement with my mother's clan. I had assured them I could place within the top two hundred, not the top two hundred and five." Flitwick said and rolled his shoulders a bit. "So after having every Goblin of the clan beat me, I was forced away and they would not sponsor me again. However, at twenty-five I was approached by a wealthy individual that saw past my lineage and offered me an Apprenticeship under him."

Flitwick leaned back into his chair with a smile. "I spent five years studying charms. When I was thirty, I went back to the Dueling scene under my Master's sponsor. That year I placed in spot number ninety-nine." Flitwick took a drink of his tea. "My mother's clan offered me Sponsor once more, and I accepted. I got myself some better dueling robes and a better practice arena. The next year, I placed number seventy-five.

"I went back every year after that, refining my technique and acquiring contacts. I spent a decade on the Dueling circuit before I finally placed in the top ten of one thousand aspiring duelists. The money wasn't terrible, but being in position ten did not offer a great prize either. And if you land yourself in the top ten, you're not allowed to register with the Dueling circuit for two years. It gives others a chance. But the money I earned wasn't going to get me through the next few years and while I was sponsored by both a Goblin Clan and my Charms Master, I wasn't exactly rolling in Galleons either. It was then I was contact by Headmaster Dumbledore to come teach at Hogwarts."

Flitwick paused a moment, drinking his tea. "I don't really think I need to go on Mr. Potter. I went on to become a twelve time champion before I retired at a nice old age. So here I am, in my twilight years at the ripe old age of eighty-three, teaching Charms. In that time, since I started at this school as a young Ravenclaw, I have learned many things. But I wish to pass two onto you. One, the journey is just as important as the destination. So make the most of it. Two, you do not have to like someone if you can respect them. Sometimes, respect is better than liking them. I respect Albus, but Ancestors knows I don't like him. I don't agree with the way he does things from time to time."

Harry had listened the entire time. He realized that this was quite an abbreviated version of what Flitwick had gone through, but Harry remained quiet about it nonetheless. Harry moved his teacup and saucer over to the edge of his desk for a refill, which his Professor gave him quite readily.

"Now, Mr. Potter, what did your Aunt and Uncle mean when they said you're no longer staying with them?" Flitwick asked. "This is just between yourself and I. I won't report it unless I absolutely have to and I don't think I do."

Harry ran his tongue over his teeth slowly before he took another drink of the Goblin tea. "It means just that Professor. I refuse to return to them of my own free will and I swore that I would not. It was an abusive home towards me, and there is no reason good enough to ever put a child in an abusive environment."

Flitwick nodded. "I quite agree Mr. Potter. Now what are your living conditions over the summer?"

Harry rubbed his neck slowly. "I will have to speak with my Account Manager, see if my family has a home I could make livable or if there's a place I can buy and make suitable for cheap."

"An excellent idea. Might I also suggest checking Hogsmeade? There is a possibility that there is property available, plus it's close to the school. You won't have to ride the train back and forth to school when you're going home and coming back." Flitwick said.

"I'll have my Account Manager look into it as well." It was a good suggestion with merit.

"Now why are you going over such theories of Magic, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked clasping his hands on the desk. "I've been racking my brain all day but I cannot fathom why you do it."

Harry inhaled slowly before exhaling. "Well… think of it like this. I keep myself fit by working out, sometimes for more than two hours a day. I'm pulling the Potter accounts out of stasis and getting gold flowing once more after they've been stilled for roughly ten years. It's going to take a lot of work and a lot of back and forth between Gringotts and myself. I wish to start investing early using my own money and own merits. I need to study laws and politics so I can get a feel for the situation before I turn seventeen and I have to enter the realm of politics. I have Hogwarts school work I need to keep up with, but I refuse to allow myself to do any substandard work. I want to do work of excellency and be at the top of my class. Plus, there are realms of Magic not taught here at Hogwarts that I am rather interested in, like Conjuration and Alchemy to name a few." Harry shook his head. "I'm not good with social interaction Professor, in fact I don't give second chances to people that don't earn them. I pointedly loathe or abhor rudeness to a point I'm willing to point blank hex someone for it."

Flitwick nodded slowly, understanding. "Do not alienate your classmates too much Mr. Potter." The good Professor said. "Especially if you wish to enter politics. You would be surprised at how well school yard arguments can be overlaid with government politics. It does not have the same repercussions but even still…."

Harry nodded and he finished off his tea. "I will have to look into getting some more of this tea." He said more to himself as he stood up. "It was excellent talking with you Professor."

"Of course Mr. Potter."

"Please, call me Harry when we're not in the classroom Professor." Harry said before he headed to the door. He paused, tapping his finger against the frame. "Who was your Charms Master?"

Professor Flitwick smiled a little mournfully. "Augustus Potter." He said proudly. "He was the black sheep of the Potter family; he would have never been Head of House or Heir. And he would have died penniless had it not been for his sponsoring me for the Dueling Circuit. I quite remember the look on his face when I found out he had gone begging to his family for the money to pay for the lodging and registration fees for me. He had been ashamed. But before he died, Master Gus told me one thing. 'Fillius' he said 'If you do nothing else for me, remain true to yourself and teach others the wonders of charms.'" Flitwick smiled a bit more. "Now off you go Harry. I believe that's enough for today."

Harry nodded before he headed out of the office in thought.

A/N: And another one bites the dust. I'm going to try and plow through this book as quickly as possible while keeping each chapter at about this length. How long will it be? I have no idea right now. I'm already planning the next three or so chapters which should put us at about… Oh... Halloween? Christmas? Somewhere along those lines.

The other Horsemen won't really be revealed until the book they appear in, but I might drop hints. Then again, I might not.

Adios~!


	4. Chapter 4

Book 1

Chapter 4

Harry was in the Great Hall on Wednesday eating breakfast and also looking over financial information. It seemed his battle with the paperwork would be never ending. But that was fine. He had a good sense of his finances and where they were coming from. It also seemed that his family had invested, in recent years, in Muggle companies.

It was likely his mother's influence if he really thought about it.

He rolled up the tamper proof scroll and stamped it. He then put it into a box that directly delivered it to Rotgut in Gringotts. It would keep most people from being able to intercept it. A few exceptionally powerful people might, but the box would quickly incinerate the copy of it and alert both ends of the box.

A loud screech announced Ashes' arrival and Harry briefly glanced over to his Eagle owl. He was amused as he landed in front of the staff table, clutching a dead rabbit in his talons. Ashes then set about the work of eating his catch right there in front of the Staff Table.

"Must you really do that there?" Harry asked amusement clear in his voice.

He got a loud screech from Ashes who threw out his wings as though trying to say 'I can explain!' It was even more disturbing by the piece of entrails hanging from his beak.

"Now what have I told you about talking with your mouth full?" Harry asked.

Ashes seemed to look contrite as he ducked his head down to eat some more and take the time to actually eat it before giving off another screech. It then ducked its head down and ate more.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle a bit before he stroked Dust's wings a bit while reading his book. Personally, Harry would rather a good novel over his texts, but he took what he could get. The texts were rather dry reading, but informative. And it helped with his magic in the long run.

"Aren't you going to stop him?" One of the Ravenclaw Prefects asked, sounding mortified. Penelope Clearwater if Harry remembered correctly.

"Why?" Harry asked almost incredulously. "Ashes is a bird of prey. He's not going to eat strips of greasy bacon or links of sausage. He's going to hunt, he's going to kill, and he's going to eat whatever he can find because that's how being a bird of prey works." Harry heard the screech and glanced over, seeing entrails. "Manners Ashes." He said. "My point is right there," Harry motioned to Ashes eat the rabbit. "Is Natural selection at work. The Rabbit wasn't fast enough; it didn't blend well enough to avoid Ashes. It became food; it won't contribute to the gene pool."

Penelope looked aghast at the idea. "And do you apply Darwinism to everything?" she asked.

"Don't be daft." Harry said and shook his head. "Of course I don't. Animals are the only thing we really can apply Darwinism to. Applying Darwinism to humans doesn't work. Those not good enough still end up breeding, they still end up populating more and more. Besides, one could argue what makes one person better than another? Certainly not lineage, though genetics do help in the matter." Harry shrugged. "Regardless, I'm not going to make Ashes stop eating his food where he feels relatively safe to."

Harry then gathered his things and stood up. He began to walk out of the Great Hall, though he paused by the Caretaker. "Mr. Filch, I will see you down here after my morning classes, promptly at a quarter before Eleven. I will need a broom, a dust pan, a mop and a bucket. Ashes is my bird, so his mess is mine, but for the time being, I must first get to my class." Harry didn't see the look of surprise on Filch's face before he headed away.

_-Scene Break-_

Harry was of the mindset that transfiguration was going to be one of those branches of magic that for most people would be hit or miss. In the books he had already read, it was demanding visualization and intent. It was one thing to be able to do the wand movement and the incantation properly, but there was something more that had to be done

He remembered that Olivander had said his father's wand had been good for Transfiguration. So did that mean that some of that skill would be passed down to him? He wasn't sure to be perfectly honest.

It didn't take long for the classroom to start filling up and people quickly took their seats. While many wanted to sit next to Harry, over the past few days he had kept himself solidly alienated from those seeking to befriend the 'Boy-Who-Lived.' He expected this period to be much the same.

He was already checking over the Transfiguration book to bring the knowledge to the forefront of his mind.

"Heir Potter?" He heard a distinctively female voice. He placed a strip of parchment at the spot and turned to give his full attention. It was a Slytherin girl with dark brown hair, she was heavier set than most of the other girls, and there was a distinct… look to her face. He wouldn't call her ugly, for all he knew she could turn into a beautiful swan in a few years.

"Yes?" Harry asked standing fully, as was respectable. Staying seated would give a bad impression after all. It would be like he was claiming station over her.

"I am Millicent Bullstrode." She said and offered a hand. "Might I sit with you?" she asked.

Harry accepted the hand. "Indeed you may." He said and offered the respectable kiss to the back of her hand, as was expected. Tom the barman had drilled a bit of basic etiquette into Harry's skull when he had stayed at the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry then watched as she sat down and situated herself before he sat down himself. He hadn't had a partner yet. "How might I help you Ms. Bullstrode?" he asked.

"Do you always call people by their last name?" Millicent asked.

"Yes." Harry said. "It is far more polite, so you never know if I'm insulting you or respecting you."

Millicent made a sound with her mouth. "That's quite the Slytherin comment Mr. Potter." She said. "In fact, what you said at breakfast and to Filch all were quite Slytherin statements. This tells me you have quite the Slytherin mindset, not even speaking about the little stunt you pulled on the train, Mr. Doe."

"The Sorting Hat and I both agreed that Slytherin was not the House for I, Ms. Bullstrode. I bow to no one and forces inside that House would expect me to bow." Harry said.

"So, Mr. Potter, are you insulting me or respecting me?" Millicent asked as she got out her own materials for the class.

"At this time neither. Though, as with Mr. Malfoy, that can quickly change." Harry said, seeing the blonde ponce out of the corner of his eye.

"And which way did it change with Mr. Malfoy?" Millicent asked, not even glancing in Draco's direction.

"I'll leave that up to you to decide Ms. Bullstrode." Harry said, just as the door to the class shut, announcing the beginning of the class.

Quickly, the tabby cat on the Professor's desk leapt off and in midair began to change into a tall and stern looking witch. Harry was unsurprised. While he wasn't sure if he could transform, Dust was awfully quiet on the matter, he had no doubt in his mind that a Transfiguration Mistress could transform like that.

McGonagall began to go through, explaining Transfiguration to the students, going so far as to perform various examples with barely a flick of her wand. It was quite the interesting thing to watch. Briefly, Harry wondered if his father had been as accomplished as his instructor.

McGonagall then passed out needles to each of the students, detailing that they were going to change the needle into a matchstick. She gave them instruction on how, telling them to visualize the matchstick, to give intent for the needle to turn into what they visualize, and the incantation and wand movements for it.

It was simply a sharp jab for this particular work.

Harry leaned back into his chair as he stared at the steel needle. He placed his fingertips together with his index fingers against his upper lip and his middle fingers against the tip of his nose. He was thinking quite hard as he stared solely at the needle. Everyone else was jumping right into it, but Harry was thinking, detailing it in his mind.

He drew his wand and looked at it. He rolled it between his hands, feeling the texture of the wood. He felt the way there were gentle ridges, even after it had been sanded smooth. He bent it slightly, feeling the way the wood refused to yield after a point. He brought his wand to his nose and closed his eyes. He gently inhaled; there was a sharp scent to it. Vastly different from what metal smelled like.

"What are you doing?" he heard Millicent ask of him and he held up his hand as though to tell her to leave him be.

Harry then gently licked the shaft of his wand. There was a bitter taste, likely the varnish that Olivander used. But there was also more to the taste, and it left dryness in his mouth. He opened his eyes to look at his wand.

He then closed his eyes again and inhaled slowly. He thought back to the matches he used, lighting the fireplace for Vernon. He imagined the scent; he let it fill his nostrils.

He turned to look at the needle and he gave a sharp jab of his wand while saying the incantation loudly and clearly. He wanted; he needed the needle to change. He needed it to be yielding but firm. He needed it to have the sharp scent to it. He wanted it to have a dry taste with a hint of sharpness to it. He wanted it to feel porous, and rough. And he wanted the scent of sulfur where the eye of the needle was.

His needle twitched for a moment as Harry felt the pull of his magic; it went through his body, through his arm and to his wand. Finally, the needle began to thicken; the eye of the needle closed up and rounded fully. Finally, it took the form of a match with a cherry red tip.

"Bravo Mr. Potter. Five points to Ravenclaw." McGonagall said. "For another five, would you care to explain how you did it on your first try?" she asked, smiling slightly at the success.

"I stopped to think Professor." Harry said simply. "There had to be visualization. I wondered why start with a matchstick and it occurred to me, it wasn't necessarily about the match stick, but instead about the wood." Harry lifted his matchstick up slowly, twirling it in his finger slowly. "Wood is something we don't think about on a daily basis. Every day we touch wood, yet we never really stop to examine it. So we had the perfect thing to practice visualization with." Harry held up his wand, twirling it in his fingers slowly.

"The wand allows us to feel the texture of the wood, to feel how it's porous but smooth, rough, but sanded. It allows us to smell it, because if the matchstick does not smell correctly, then it has not been Transfigured correctly. Transfiguration is about changing one thing into another, so it must match that other thing in all aspects. I tasted the wood simply for more visualization." Harry looked to the matchstick and suddenly stuck the end of it in his mouth. "And it does taste like wood.

"Lastly we come to intent. Magic everywhere, no matter light, dark, or grey, is all about intent. If there is no intent behind the magic then the magic will run rampant. You must let magic flow freely through you, but you must also direct it. I didn't care in what order the magic transfigured the needle. But I gave it constraints. It could not be bigger than a match, it could not smell, taste, or feel like anything other than a match, and it could not look like anything but a match." Harry glanced up to McGonagall. "How the magic turned the needle into a match is beyond me. Did it start at the core? Did it start at a tip? Did it start at the spot closest to the direction of some major magical leyline? Perhaps it started with what I first visualized which would be the feel of the wood. It matters not; the needle is now a matchstick."

"Take another five points Mr. Potter. May I?" she asked holding her hand out for the match.

Harry passed it over to the woman. He felt no praise, no reward from the points really. It was the first time he earned them and so he promptly, and quickly, decided he cared nothing for them. He'd keep the ten points he earned, but from that point on, he wouldn't accept them anymore.

McGonagall got a matchbox off of her desk and placed the tip to the side. Harry leaned in at this. This was what he was truly wondering. Did he actually turn the tip into an actual match head? Or did he have to learn alchemy to turn things into sulfur?

There was a rough sound, but no fire and McGonagall looked knowingly. "I would have been quite worried Mr. Potter had this started a fire." She said and brought the matchstick back to his desk, setting it down. "Transfiguration is not Alchemy. There are subtle laws that Transfiguration must follow that Alchemy does not. Alchemy is turning one substance into another. Transfiguration is changing one object into another. Just because the match looks, smells, feels, and even tastes like a match, I assure you it is still quite a needle. Even when we get into animal transfiguration, there are certain nuances that I expect all of you to pay close attention to, for the animal's safety as much as your own."

Harry sat back in his seat, pondering the words that Professor McGonagall was saying. He supposed what she was saying was true. Eventually, whether the magic ran out or through an outside force, any object changed by Transfiguration would eventually revert back to its base form.

It made him want to learn Alchemy and Conjuration all the more. A temporary thing like Transfiguration was alright and all, but he wanted something more permanent.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry settled in for lunch thinking about Transfiguration. He had not started into the course material as much as he had his other studies. He had been hoping to find out about more advanced work like Conjuration and Alchemy. As it stood though, according to the older students, neither branch of magic was taught at Hogwarts anymore.

Not enough people had the talent for either and those that could have it didn't put the extra effort to learn it. It had apparently gone out of Hogwarts curriculum several years prior. The seventh year prefect mentioned doing a study about it that the school had the classes cancelled about a hundred years prior.

For Harry, that meant it was going to take some effort to find someone that could teach him about either art. Surely the former Professors would have made some attempts to pass their craft down. He just had to find someone that it was passed down to.

Harry was brought out of his musing when a set of red edged clothes sat across from him. It took a moment to place the red hair and brown eyes. "Ah, Mr. Weasley, how might I help you?" Harry asked pleasantly.

"Is it true?" Ron asked sounding impatient as he got a plate to grab a bit of food that was sitting out. He also poured himself a generous goblet of the pumpkin juice.

"I'm afraid Mr. Weasley that you'll need to offer me more detail than that. I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry frowned a moment. What could Ron be talking about? Did someone else know he was the Pale Rider? Did someone say something about him being the last one to see Binns? There were a dozen things that flitted through his mind, each one a possible rumor that people could be speaking about.

"Is it true you sat with a Slytherin in Transfiguration? Are you alright mate? Why would you do something like that? Everyone knows that those in Slytherin turn dark." Ron asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes and slowly set his silverware down. He threw up some of his Deathly Aura, not so that Ron would be frightened off but more for the deer in headlights effect. He wanted Ron's full attention and he had it. "Let me speak plainly and clearly Mr. Weasley, so there is no miscommunication between us.

"I sat with an eleven year old girl, not the reincarnation of Morgan le Fey. I sat with a girl that is ambitious and of noble blood. Yes, she is cunning and willing to use whatever is necessary to get ahead in life. I refuse to judge someone about that. She was nothing but polite, and cordial to me. At no point in time did she try to belittle me, my actions, or those I speak with on a regular basis. You, Mr. Weasley, will afford her much the same respect or any other Slytherin student that I chose to sit with during classes. You tread a very fine line Mr. Weasley. You almost sounded like a bigot." Harry noticed briefly he had more attention than he would usually like, but he wasn't going to back down on this.

"But they're-" Ron started to say.

"I don't care." Harry interrupted bluntly. "Even if she was the direct descendent of Morgan le Fey, I will judge her on her own merits and actions as I have with anyone, regardless of their House affiliation. The House system of this school is frankly quite appalling in how dated it is. It breeds contempt, dissention, bigotry, and that is a shame in my opinion. Give me the Hufflepuffs, the Gryffindors, the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws. I care not for House affiliation so long as they come to me with respect, not for some title I earned as a child that I have no reason to have, but instead because it is the courteous thing to do in return for the respect I give. Good day Mr. Weasley."

Harry stood up and gathered his things before leaving the Great Hall, throwing up his Deathly Aura higher and higher as he went to force people to look away. Such bigotry thoroughly pissed him off. Not because of what it was, but instead what it bred. Division like that would slowly lead to attacks and bullying.

If truth be told, bullying was probably one of the biggest things that pissed Harry off more than anything else.

Harry moved down to the dungeons, hoping to sit in the Potions classroom for a while and let his anger slowly leak off of him. He eventually got down to the classroom and tested the door, noting that it was locked. He tried to think rationally about it and came to the conclusion that the Professor, Severus Snape according to the upper years, didn't want students brewing potions unsupervised.

Harry could respect that.

So he stayed leaned beside the door, going through his breathing exercises. One by one, he counted his inhales. If he had the time, he'd go for a run. He couldn't let his anger cloud him when he ran. It was dangerous not to be thinking on the then and now of his runs. All it took was not enough energy to push himself across a gap and he could end up flat on his back.

Or on his chest or even worse given that he was slowly building up the strength and stamina he had to run with. He missed one of the landings and he'd fall until he hit the ground floor. Still, he believed in himself enough to pull it off.

Finally, Harry's deathly aura began to lower as his anger relaxed and ebbed away. Just in time too as the other First year Ravenclaws and the First year Hufflepuffs were coming down the corridor. They chatted in groups, but generally left Harry alone. They were the more conservative of the Four Houses at Hogwarts after all, so they didn't want to go rocking the boat like Ron had done.

The door opened and a man with a hook nose and greasy looking hair in black billowing robes looked out. "Enter." He said with a sneer before turning on his heel to walk towards the front of the classroom.

Harry slowly led the way in, making his way to the nearest empty workstation. His eyes flitted about, taking in the state of the potions workshop. He noted how it seemed dirty, like it hadn't been cleaned in a while. There were various reagents around that Harry worked to identify. Most didn't come to him, but he noted the basic ones.

"There will be no silly wand waving or incantations in this classroom." Snape said as the door shut behind the last of the students. "You are here to learn the subtle art of Potion making, unless you're like the usual batch of Dunderheads I have to work with."

Snape began to go through the roll, pausing at Harry's name with an even more twisted sneer. He glanced to Harry. "Mr. Potter, our newest famous celebrity." Snape said before continuing on with the rest of the roll.

And it was like that that Harry's anger flared viciously back up once more. This man had already singled Harry out, not on Harry's merits or anything but on his own preconceptions about Harry. Harry could feel his anger building and with it his Deathly Aura. Dust tried to comfort Harry with a few silent flutters, but the problem was that Harry's anger was fueling Dust's.

A hand on his bicep brought him out of his anger. He glanced to his right to see a Hufflepuff girl with red hair and crystal blue eyes looking to him. She was slightly pale, making the light dusting of freckles on her cheek stand out, Ms. Bones if Harry remembered correctly. He inclined his head to her just slightly, a silent thanks for drawing him out of the fury that was steadily blinding him.

Just in time for Snape to finish up roll too.

"I am here to teach you the subtle arts of Potion brewing." Snape reiterated from early. "I can teach you to brew glory, bottle fame, and even put a stopper on Death." The man spoke with an obvious affection of his art. He looked over the assembled students. "If you're not the usual Dunderheads I'm stuck with, you will find that Potion brewing is a lucrative art. But there are some of you that perhaps need to learn to pay attention." Snape's eyes were solely on Harry who was watching the man while taking notes with one hand.

"Potter, tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?" Snape asked moving over to Harry, almost looming over him.

Harry's Deathly Aura was building again. He saw some frost actually spreading from the moisture on the walls at his very palpable anger. "Draught of the Living Death, the most powerful sleeping potion Professor." Harry answered.

"And where would I look to find a Bezoar?" Snape asked.

This only made Harry's anger build. These were not first year questions and it was only because he had seen Tom the barman of the Leaky Cauldron use a Bezoar on a patron that drank too much. "In the stomach of a goat, sir. It's capable of curing most poisons, including alcohol poisoning."

"Tell me, what the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane is?" the Professor asked.

"They're the same plant which also goes by the name of Aconite. It's most popular use is in the Wolfsbane potion that gives some reprieve for Lycanthropes." Harry said. He barely registered Susan shivering beside him slightly from the frosty air around him.

"And where would I find Boomslang Skin, Potter?" Snape asked.

"I'd assume from skinning a Boomslang." Harry said, already getting irritated at the harder and harder questions. He just barely knew the first three questions.

"And how would I adjust Gillyweed for the use of Salt water?" the Potions Master asked.

"Perhaps growing it with salt water instead of fresh water." Harry gripped his thigh under the desk. He was grateful for the bulky robes in that moment so that Snape couldn't see his arm trembling with the urge to lash out.

"Tsk, tsk. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it Mr. Potter? Five points from Ravenclaw." Snape said moving to sweep away.

"You know what?" Harry barked out, standing up with enough force his chair fell back. He didn't care anymore. "I refuse to sit here and be belittled by an arrogant man with a very clear and obvious Vendetta against me for something I did not do." Harry said as he gathered his things into his bag, "I will not allow the money my parents spent on a premium education go to waste because of you." Harry glared at Snape. There was nothing he could learn in the classroom that he couldn't learn outside it.

Harry began to make his way towards the dungeon door when he felt something pressing in on his shields. Dust cawed angrily and launched from Harry's shoulder and at Snape. In flight, Dust lengthened and thinned out as he shot at Snape. Snape just barely got out of the way of Dust who pierced a solid brick wall, a black arrow formed where the Crow had been.

Harry whirled on the man. "Don't you ever dare try invading my mind again!" Harry roared out. He was getting sick and tired of people attempting his shields. "So help me, I should be pressing charges. But instead, I will never willingly step foot in any class that calls you Professor. I do not have the time to be dealing with you in court. Dust, come!" Harry then walked out with Dust making his way over to the young Rider's shoulder.

Harry was furious as he stalked out of the dungeons. He had a headache from his anger and the draw on his magic, Snape's assault not helping in the matter. He needed to learn potions though. He was fascinated by them and he didn't want his education lacking in the matter. But Snape's blatant disregard for rules and conduct had infuriated him and put him off to learning them.

It meant he needed a different instructor for Potions.

Harry punched a wall just as he came out of the dungeons. His fury ebbed a bit when pain lanced through his hand. Punching stone was definitely not the best way to do it, but the pain did help center and focus him for a moment.

Frankly, he didn't know the sort of protocol regarding getting a tutor for a subject, if there was even precedence for it. All Harry knew was that he was not stepping foot in Snape's classroom ever again.

A throb brought Harry's attention to his hand and he sighed, seeing he had busted open the skin. He cupped his hand with the other and headed off for the infirmary. It would probably be best to get it taken care of right away.

He entered the infirmary to see that it was mostly empty except for the school nurse busying herself by brewing some potions. Harry blinked a moment, surprised at the sight until he remembered that a Healer needed at least NEWT level potions. He had looked into it for a career path but eventually decided against it.

The woman turned to look at Harry and her lips thinned a bit when she saw his hand. "Sit." She ordered, pointing to one of the beds.

Harry nodded and moved over to the bed and sat down, still cupping his hand. The nurse came over and took his hand in both of hers, inspecting the damage. "It's Madam Pomfrey, Mr. Potter. Now… I've seen this type of injury before, do I need to expect someone coming in with quite the bruising and breakage on their face?"

Harry blinked a moment. "No, Madam Pomfrey." Harry said after a moment. He saw her eyes turn sharp as she looked up from his hand to his own eyes. "I punched a wall." Harry explained quickly.

Pomfrey nodded after a moment. "Yes, I suppose that would also do it." She said and moved away. She got a bowl and a small bottle of a viscous green fluid. She poured it into the bowl and brought it over. 'Essence of Murtlap, it'll sting but it will help heal and clean the cuts. I'll bandage your hand properly."

Harry nodded and plunged his hand into the bowl. He winced slightly as it did in fact sting. Dust cawed slightly from his shoulder. "Thank you Dust, and thank you Madam Pomfrey."

The nurse waved his thanks away and moved to another cabinet. She pulled out one potion that looked like the blue they coated candy with. A second one that was a sickly green color soon joined it, and a third that was dark red, like blood, joined those two. She then immediately brought them over. "I know you have been living with your Muggle Relatives the past ten years, Mr. Potter, so I am not sure you're up to date on your inoculations. You will drink all three of these."

Harry grimaced, hearing the tone in her voice. "Yes Ma'am." He said. It was all he could think to say as she passed him the first. He knocked it back as quickly as he could, the thick substance being difficult to swallow and the taste horrendous. The green one went down easier but it did not taste any better. The last one was somewhere in the middle and thankfully tasted somewhat like mint, so it was easier. "Blech."

Pomfrey lifted his hand from the bowl of the Essence of Murtlap. She then bandaged it properly. She waved her wand over it, double checking everything. "A hairline fracture." She said and tapped her wand against his hand. "There, all healed."

Harry watched the nurse as she went back to brewing a potion. "Why did you think I had hit someone Madam Pomfrey?" It was not a nice feeling that someone was casting judgment on him without even meeting him.

"I was the nurse of Hogwarts when your father was here Mr. Potter." She said as she started to chop. "And I was worried that you would follow in his footsteps. At times, it wasn't so bad. Harmless pranks like a firework in a toilet. Other times… Other times he and his friends got physical with their victims. He'd range from a prankster that could run with the Weasley Twins on their best day while he was at his worst, to a bully that was vicious in his attacks. Albus… most of the time Albus wrote off their bullying as harmless school yard pranks." She shook her head. "I was the one that had to console and treat the victims of your father's pranks."

Harry frowned a moment, thinking about what she was saying about his father. His father was a bully, the very thing he loathed so greatly? "Was he a bad person?" he asked softly.

"Hmm… that's a little tricky to say." Madam Pomfrey said as she stirred the potion some more. "I think he genuinely thought everything was a little prank, except for the times he got vicious in retaliation against someone. One time, he had changed a girl's tie into spiders, even though she was absolutely terrified of them. He had no way of knowing that she had been attacked by an acromantula which turned her arachnophobia into the stuff of nightmares. He was cocky, brash, spoiled, and waltzed around like he owned the place." She said bluntly. "But was he a genuinely bad person? No, no I don't think he was a bad person. He did save a student's life once. But that's not my story to tell."

Harry nodded and sat on the bed a little while longer, realizing that what Madam Pomfrey had said changed his perception of his father. James Potter was humanized really by what she said. There was good, and there was bad. Just like any other person.

"Now, which class do you need to get back to?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Anger rushed through his veins, but he kept it under control. He was not going to lash out at this woman. "I will not be heading back to that man's classroom. Snape is hardly fit to be teaching." Harry said gripping his hand tightly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded and sighed. "I have met many a good student who ended up having their dreams crushed by that man. I warned Albus that he needed to rein Severus in."

"I would like to ask you to teach me Potions." Harry said after a moment.

Madam Pomfrey turned to look at Harry and arched a brow. "Why?" she asked.

"I absolutely refuse to return to Snape's classroom, no matter what he is teaching." Harry stated bluntly. "I do not give second chances freely, they must be earned and Snape's antics in the classroom have quite solidly ruined his chances of earning one, because I know he has no intention of attempting to earn a second chance.

"As a healer, you had to have at least NEWT level Potions and passed. The fact you're here at Hogwarts tells me you did better than passed, you passed with an Outstanding. You wouldn't be trusted to treat students unless you did. A teacher does not need a Mastery in their subject if they get an Outstanding at NEWT level for the course they're teaching.

"I still need to learn how to brew potions. I refuse to let my knowledge of magic have such a massive gaping hole in it because of one man. At the same time, you get a sort of assistant. When you're having to brew complex potions for the needs of the Hospital wing, such as Draught of the Living Death which can be used to put a patient in a medical coma, I can be brewing the simpler potions you need and have run out on. I expect most of it will be self-study because you will be busy with your work, but I still need someone there to offer a guiding hand." In the short amount of time he had been there, Harry had given it plenty of thought.

Madam Pomfrey watched him and then nodded. "Get your things set up." She said.

Harry quickly set to work, getting his tools and equipment lined up so that it was in easy reach of his spot. He then saw a cauldron other than his own float over to him, along with cleaning supplies. "Clean it." Madam Pomfrey said.

"But it's already spotless." Harry said, looking inside the Cauldron.

"Did you see it cleaned?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"No."

"First rule of brewing potions, unless you've cleaned you're equipment personally, don't trust it." She said. "The last thing any brewer needs is for some residue of a previous potion to be on the bottom or even under the lip of the cauldron. Potions don't always mix too well. You could brew a Draught of Living Death for me, it could look like it, smell like it, even taste like it, but if some potion like… a Pepper Up Potion, got mixed in with it, the Draught of Living Death suddenly becomes a lethal poison that a Bezoar would not even help." She pointed her wand at the cauldron. "So clean Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and he proceeded to check everything, making sure it was actually clean. He cleaned everything before he started to scrub the cauldron, pushing up the sleeves of his robes as he worked. He could understand why Madam Pomfrey had chosen this as the first lesson. Potion safety was an issue that needed to be taught.

He scrubbed for a long while, taking his time to wipe out any soapy residue and rinse it clean before patting it dry. It took him about forty-five minutes just to clean the cauldron. "I'm done." Harry said and put the brush down beside the cauldron.

Pomfrey glanced over at him. "Do it again. You trusted the water to be perfectly clean." She said. "There are minerals and such that can throw off your potion. You could end up shipping this potion elsewhere, where the tapped water is treated differently. Chemicals and bacteria could make a person sick. Your water must be thoroughly boiled and purified."

Harry simply nodded and set to work. He boiled the water again. He knew that Madam Pomfrey was going to be a demanding and precise teacher to work under by this. But it was better to get it all out of the way on the first day than to cause an accident. "Can I trust my potion ingredients?" he asked.

"It would be preferable if you picked your own. However, reputable stores, such as the one in Diagon Alley where I'm assuming you got your supplies, are safe to use. Just double check everything before you use it. Does it need rinsed off? Does it need thrown out because it's old? Always double, and triple check everything Mr. Potter, there is no room for error in Potion making, most of the time you're doing something to help somebody."

Even hurting someone needed an absolute precision. Harry had never really thought of these things before when he had found an interest in Potions. So, with all this in mind, Harry began to continue scrubbing the cauldron once more. He was certain that he was going to learn a safety tip every lesson.

Finally, Harry patted the inside dry once more. "I'm done again." He said.

Madam Pomfrey glanced over and nodded. "Potion brewers often use the Charm Augamenti to supply the water. It is always pure and clean." She held out a slip of parchment to Harry. "Give that to Fillius and he'll teach you the charm. I'm afraid I've arrived at the part of my own potion that requires the most attention. Now off with you Mr. Potter."

Harry accepted the slip of parchment and gathered his things up. "Thank you." He said before he headed out of the Hospital Wing to figure out what he was going to do now. He had quite enjoyed scrubbing the cauldrons for an hour and a half over the ten minutes he spent in the dungeons with Snape.

Chapter End

A/N: Sorry about the delay folks. I got caught up on the beginning and had to rework it a few times. We'll see some more repercussions next chapter, along with a meeting with the Goblins.

Adios.


	5. Chapter 5

Book 1

Chapter 5

Harry was unsurprised when the summons came for him to meet the Headmaster shortly before Dinner. Undoubtedly the old man wanted to speak with Harry regarding his decision to not attend the classes of Severus Snape, that and the attack from Dust on Snape.

Of course, personally he thought that Dust should have skewered Snape through the forehead for his assault. Even still, Harry had caused the History of Magic teacher to pass on. Causing a second member of the faculty to no longer be able to work would likely just cause problems in and of itself.

So, Harry waited and then went to fetch Professor Flitwick. He was all caught up on his homework, having had plenty of time to write the essay for McGonagall once he was done with Madam Pomfrey. He would probably review it twice and have an older student look it over before he had to turn it in.

Harry politely knocked on Flitwick's office door and heard the squat professor tell him to enter. Harry entered, glancing around the office again. No matter how many times he looked upon it, it was quite the lovely office. "Professor, I hate to interrupt you, but the Headmaster has summoned me again." Harry said. Twice in the opening week of school, it had to be a new record.

Flitwick stood up and moved over. "Then let us make haste so that we may make it in time for supper, shall we?"

"Of course." Harry said and walked beside his Head of House. "Professor, are you aware of the events that this is likely about?"

"You mean your tiff with Severus that resulted in your familiar attacking him and you leaving his classroom to never enter another class he teaches ever again?" Flitwick asked. "Yes, I've heard about that. What happened?"

"Mr. Snape," Harry said with all due appropriate venom, "Singled me out of the entire class, asked questions well above the reading of a First Year, and decided to mock me when I didn't know two out of the five questions he asked. Then, when I say I refuse to stay in a classroom with a poor excuse of a teacher, he decided to attempt to mind rape me. Dust took offense. I'm even willing to swear to that upon a Wizard's oath." Harry said as he gently brushed his fingers along Dust's head.

Flitwick paused a moment in his walk before he started to walk more determinedly. His shoulders were squared and his legs carried him quickly. Harry was quite acutely reminded that a wizard could still be a dueling champion, even well into their eighties like Flitwick was.

Dumbledore was even surprisingly spry for a man pushing a hundred and twenty. Harry had a theory that the man's magic helped him with that, which would explain why he was so powerful.

Flitwick didn't even pause before the Gargoyle. "Lemon Drops." He said with authority without breaking stride. The Gargoyle quickly moved out of the way, admitting both Head of House and student. Flitwick flicked his wand at the door and it shot open with a bang.

Flitwick strode in and his wand slashed through the air. "Expelliarmus, Incarcerous!" he chained them both together, striking the man waiting in the room. Harry entered at the first spell, seeing as Snape was disarmed and bound.

"Fillius, what is the meaning of this?!" Dumbledore asked rising from his seat.

"Severus Snape, if you ever assault one of my students ever again, his familiar attacking you will be the least of your problems when I am challenging you to a dual and ripping your tongue out from your mouth!" Flitwick said, holding his wand trained on Severus' bound form. "And you, Albus! You have the same warning as Severus!" Flitwick pointed his wand at the Headmaster. "Mr. Potter seemed to let go your attempt at assault on his mind during your first meeting with him, so I let it go as well. A second attempt, from either of you, will not go unpunished!"

"What lies has that boy been spouting now?" Snape snarled, trying to get to his wand so he could release his restraints.

"Lies are they Severus?" Flitwick asked. "And would you be willing to swear a Wizard's Oath that you did not provoke Mr. Potter? That you didn't attempt Legilimency on Mr. Potter and that his familiar responded to the threat?"

Harry wanted to yank the knife strapped to his left forearm out of its sheath and cut Snape's tongue out for calling him a liar. He omitted details, yes, but he never told an outright lie. If someone were to ask him point blank if he was the Pale Rider, Death of the Apocalypse, he would tell them honestly that he was. He hated lying that much.

"Perhaps we could all calm down." Dumbledore said in an even tone. "We can all have a seat and discuss this civilly." Dumbledore's phoenix gave a trilling note that was obviously meant to calm them.

"Professor." Harry said, putting a hand on Flitwick's shoulder. "Thank you." He said.

Flitwick moved his wand away from Snape and quickly conjured two chairs for both himself and Harry. His wand flicked through the air a second time and a table was quickly conjured. "Tippy!" he called out.

Harry was surprised when a creature with bat like ears and large tennis ball sized eyes popped in beside Flitwick. It was no larger than his Head of House. "Master Flitwick called?" It asked in a squeaky voice.

"Yes, please bring Mr. Potter and myself some of my personal brew, along with some biscuits." Flitwick said.

The creature bowed and popped away as quickly as it had come. Harry stared blinking slowly at where it had stood. "What… what was that?" he asked.

"That, Mr. Potter, was a House-Elf. They live to serve." Flitwick said calmly. "Think of them as house keepers, cooks, gardeners, and servers."

Harry nodded and quickly took his seat in the chair that Flitwick had graciously provided him.

"I could have supplied refreshments Fillius." Dumbledore said, motioning to the tea set with what were undoubtedly fresh biscuits to go with it.

"I'm sure you could have Albus, except for two things. One, I am angry and I want something a little stronger. Two, after your attack on Mr. Potter's mind during our last session, I am less likely to believe you won't try something even more underhanded like potions."

"Fillius!" Dumbledore said sounding completely appalled at the notion of using a potion on a student. "I would never attempt to do something so underhanded."

"Then I will only appear as paranoid as Mad-Eye." Flitwick said quite calmly.

Harry sat in silence, noticing the battle of wills going on. Flitwick wasn't going to back down, not from Snape who was finally unbound and sitting in a chair that Dumbledore conjured. Flitwick wasn't going to back down from Dumbledore either, no matter what platitudes the old man offered. It was a rather surprising thing to watch.

Harry wondered briefly if this was a feeling of loyalty.

It was such an alien concept to him. Not a bad one, no, but it was an unknown. Dust was with him because he was the familiar of the Pale Rider. Rotgut was with him because there was profit to be had as the Potter Account Manager.

Flitwick though… There was no profit to be had; he was not bound to Harry. So where did such loyalty come from? Was it just because Harry was a member of Flitwick's house? Did he expect something in return? Thoughts raced through Harry's mind, trying to decipher the motives behind the diminutive Professor.

The House Elf popped back in carrying a tray of the strong tea and quickly poured out two cups. The House Elf then popped out.

Harry added some cream and sugar to his before bringing it to his lips to drink.

"Harry, that's some rather strong tea." Dumbledore warned.

Harry looked to the man over the lip of the cup before he drank down a hearty amount of the tea, much to the amusement of Flitwick who began to chuckle. "Professor Flitwick has served me this brew before during our meeting and I found I quite like it." Harry said quite calmly before he placed his cup down on the table between him and Flitwick. "And I still have not given you leave to use such a familiar tone with me. It is still Mr. Potter to you."

"My apologies then Mr. Potter. I had just wanted to warn you." Dumbledore said, giving a warning glance to Snape who looked as though he had wanted to say something. "Perhaps you would like to give an account to what transpired during Potions today?" he asked.

Harry took another drink of tea and then tried one of the biscuits, enjoying the taste of it as he pondered a little bit. "Not really." He said quite simply. "But I will anyways because I doubt I will leave this room unless I do." He glanced over to Snape for a moment before looking to Dumbledore's eyes. "Mr. Snape-" Harry began.

"Professor Snape." Dumbledore corrected.

"_Mister_ Snape," Harry emphasized, refusing to give the man the respect of that station.

"Now Mr. Potter, Professor Snape is a teacher of Hogwarts. We must afford him the respect due to that title." Dumbledore said.

"He is no teacher or Professor of mine and as such I will not afford him the respect of that title." Harry said firmly. "Nor will he ever be a teacher of mine so long as I have the free will to do anything regarding it."

"You are fighting a losing battle Albus." Flitwick said after taking a sip of his own tea. "Because I will stand behind Mr. Potter's decision to seek his Potions Education from someone else."

"Once again, people are pandering to Potter's fame. I merely treated the boy like any other student." Snape said.

"Mr. Snape's comment makes me truly wonder if I shouldn't get the Department of Magical Law Enforcement involved, if not at the very least the Board of School Governors." Harry said and watched as Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Asking five questions that are blatantly above the reading level of even the most studious of First years and taking points off when they're wrong, then assaulting that student's mind with the Legilimens Curse. If this is how he treats any other student, then I truly do wonder…" Harry said wondering if it would indeed be better to get some form of authority involved in this matter.

Dumbledore looked quite shocked and turned to stare at Snape for a long moment. "And what do you have to say for yourself Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course the boy is lying!" Snape said standing from his chair.

Dust cawed at the man and Harry's aura flared up. He could see his half-finished cup of tea quickly cooling. "I am not lying!" Harry snapped. "And I am willing to swear a Wizard's Oath on my version of events that I am not lying. I was willing to let this matter lie, but given your incessant behavior, I shall be pressing charges." Harry stood up and turned to leave.

"Please, Harry, you must give people a second chance." Dumbledore pleaded. "This needn't go to the courts. If you just return to Professor Snape's class, you could see this."

Harry snarled at this suggestion and turned to face Dumbledore. "I will not be returning to his class under any circumstances, not of my own free will. I do not give Second chances freely. They must be earned, and there is never a third chance. By his assault on my mind, Mr. Snape has forfeited any chance of having a second chance. You're lucky that I'm not pressing charges against _you_. I've had my mind assaulted three times in the first week alone!"

"Then at least tell us what charges you plan to press." Dumbledore said, pleading really. "I need to know how bad it will be."

"No, Mr. Snape will know what charges are being pressed when they are being served by an Auror." Harry said before finally leaving Dumbledore's office, his anger gripping him again. He desperately needed to learn to control that better.

"If I were you Albus, I would watch myself around young Mr. Potter." Flitwick said. "He is already proving himself to be quite the force to be reckoned with."

-_Scene Break_-

Harry was eating breakfast the next day, pointedly ignoring everyone around him. It wasn't that he didn't like anyone. But he didn't like discussing trivial matters. He couldn't care about Quidditch the way some others did. However, this was also a social hour. They shouldn't be talking about class work either.

Harry's thoughts were brought out by the sudden hooting of mail. A regal looking snowy owl came to land before him. It bore the harness of a Gringotts owl. It stuck its leg out patiently, holding itself tall and proud. Harry untied the letter from the owl and watched it take off.

He opened the letter and quickly scanned through the contents before he reread it in more depth when he felt as though he was missing something. The phrase '_Gringotts requests your presence at your earliest convenience' _set alarm bells off in his mind. Harry quickly stood up and gathered his things. "Dust, come." He said and the crow abandoned the toast to fly over to Harry's shoulder.

Harry strode up to the Staff table; more specifically he went to Professor Flitwick. 'Sir, I just received this." Harry said, offering Flitwick the letter. "And it's been iterated to me that when Gringotts says at my earliest convenience, they really mean right now."

Harry was surprised when Flitwick's eyes just briefly glanced through the letter before he passed it back. He didn't pry into Harry's financial business. "Very well Mr. Potter. If you'll follow me, you can Floo over from my office." Flitwick leapt from his chair and began to lead off.

Harry saw from the corner of his eye that Dumbledore looked to want to say something, but chose not to. It was probably the smartest thing Dumbledore had done since Harry arrived at Hogwarts regarding Harry.

"Have you ever travelled by Floo Powder before Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked as he got the pot of the grey ash like powder from the mantle of his fireplace.

"No Sir, any help would be beneficial." Harry said as he stepped forward.

Flitwick drew his wand and quickly changed Harry's robes to resemble something more formal than his school robes. "Take a pinch. Many will make the mistake of taking a handful and it will cause them to go much faster. So take a pinch, throw it into the fire and speak your destination very clearly, slowly if you have to. Then walk through. Upon the exit, I want you to give a bit of hop; it will keep you from shooting out onto your rump."

Harry took a pinch of the powder. "Will Dust be safe going through with me?" Harry asked.

"Of course Mr. Potter. Good luck." Flitwick said.

Harry inhaled deeply. He threw the powder into the flames and watched them roar to emerald green. "The Leaky Cauldron, London." Harry said in as strong and firm a voice he could. He was nervous about this actually. He stepped through carefully and felt it suck him through.

Harry felt his feet fall out from under him and the feeling of sliding through the blackness. He glanced around him, only seeing blackness. He was on something solid, that much he knew. He wasn't racing through it either, but he was moving quickly, fast enough that he would have to full on sprint to keep up if his feet were the method of transport.

Harry saw a light, edged with green, coming up. While on his back, he tried to push himself up to his feet just before he got to it. He passed through to the Leaky Cauldron and stumbled a bit as he went through the grate. He wasn't on his ass though.

Dust cawed angrily before flying up towards the rafters. It was clear the animal did not like the magical transport.

Harry noticed most of the occupants of the Inn weren't focused on him. He quickly drew his hood up, thankful that Flitwick had kept it after changing his robes. He quickly brushed himself off of the dust and soot.

"Just use ya wand lad." Tom said finally taking notice to Harry.

"Don't know how." Harry said as he moved over towards Tom.

"Lad ya back!" Tom said quite surprised.

"Tom, I'm trying to be incognito here." Harry said, unsurprised Tom remembered him.

Tom took his wand out and used it to remove the dust and soot remaining on Harry's robes. "I'll get ya my book on the charms John." Tom said with a slight wink.

Harry smiled gratefully and passed a few gold coins to Tom. "I have some business to attend to. It could be a few hours." Harry then moved towards the entrance to the Alley and used his wand. He then began to walk down the road with Dust settling on his shoulder.

Harry paused at the entrance to a dark and shadier part of Diagon Alley. A place, if the sign was correct, was called Knockturn Alley. He was getting a feeling from down there. A feeling of belonging, like something of his was down in that dark alley.

Dust cawed and Harry reminded himself that it was necessary to go to Gringotts first.

Harry continued down to the ivory building and entered through the golden doors. He headed towards the first available teller he saw. It wasn't during the summer months, so there was less business of withdraws being made from Gringotts so it was easier to find an open teller.

"If you could tell Account Manager Rotgut that I am here for our meeting, I await him at his earliest convenience." Harry told the teller before moving away to sit down.

Harry focused hard, trying to keep the feel of the foul magic out of his mind. He was constantly being bombarded by the sensations at the school, but this one felt older, more powerful. It didn't make much sense to Harry, at the moment, but he would get to the bottom of things.

"Mr. Potter, I'm glad you could come." Harry's eyes opened to see Rotgut. "If you would kindly follow me, we have some pressing business to attend to."

Harry rose from his seat and began to follow behind Rotgut to his office once more. Inside was another Goblin who had a bald head with what looked like a piece of metal bolted to it with the skin roughly attached to the metal to try and make it mesh. He also had a long beard that tucked into the belt of his suit like some sort of twisted tie. "Mr. Potter," The new goblin rasped, its voice even rougher than Rotgut's. "I am the Black Family Account Manager Ironskull, Chief Strategist of the Iron Clan, and Sire to the Chieftain of the Iron Clan."

"Harry James Potter, Scion of House Potter and Avatar of Death." Harry recognized what Ironskull had done, asking for Harry's trust by giving his name, so Harry returned it. This Goblin wouldn't be there if he didn't have some sort of business.

Ironskull nodded. "I thank you for your trust in this matter Mr. Potter. It has come to my attention that you have taken an active role as the Scion of House Potter, working to bring the assets and monies out of stasis and flowing once more."

"I have." Harry said as he took his seat beside the Goblin. "However, and forgive me for my impertinence, but I don't believe that's any of the business of the Black Family Account Manager." Harry said.

Ironskull gave a harsh sounding cackle of a laugh. "Oh Rotgut, you lucky little bastard, you got quite lucky with this one. He gets business quite well and understands how Goblins think." Ironskull took a moment to compose himself. "Sirius Orion Black is your God Father Mr. Potter and he had made you his heir when you were born. Shortly after Halloween of 1981, Sirius Orion Black was chucked into Azkaban Prison."

"Then did he die?" Harry asked. He had never met the man, and so he felt nothing for him if he did die. He didn't even recognize the name.

"Hardly," Ironskull said. "Someone from the Department of Wills would have informed you instead. Before the brat's third year of Hogwarts, Sirius ran away and was disowned by his mother Walburga Black. I still handled his account and finances because I liked the brat more than his mother, but that's the backstory. Sirius was placed in Azkaban, and his mother reintegrated him into the family tree once more when it came out he killed twelve Muggles and a Wizard. When Walburga died about five years ago, the account went into stasis and the title of Heir Black should have passed down to Draco Malfoy, the eldest Black male through Sirius' cousin Narcissa Malfoy nee Black.

"This didn't happen." Ironskull said flatly. "The title of _Baron_ Black of Blackmoor passed instead onto Sirius. This shouldn't have happened. When he was put into Azkaban, he should have been stripped of all titles by Magic itself."

"How could such a thing happen?" Harry asked quite curiously. Something was bugging him about the situation.

"Frankly Mr. Potter? We at Gringotts are at as much a loss as you are." Ironskull said. "But figuring out this mishap and what it means is not why we called you here today. Remember how I said that Sirius has named you his Heir? Well, Scion of House Potter, you are also entitled as Scion of House Black and with everything that comes with being the Heir."

Harry groaned softly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess the rest. Since I've been getting the monies in the Potter vaults moving once more, making money for Gringotts Bank, I am wanted to get the monies in the Black Vaults moving as well after five years of stasis, making money for Gringotts Bank as well."

"Right in one Mr. Potter. You also have a trust vault of Ten Thousand Galleons in the Black Family name." Ironskull said with a wicked smirk at Harry seemingly grasping it so easily. "You'll also be needed to check the status of the Black Family houses as well."

Harry nodded. "I was planning with Master Rotgut to tour the Potter estates during Christmas. Shall I see you then as well Master Ironskull?"

"I will schedule the appointments and then send them to you. Do you wish for a separate transfer box for the Black Family paperwork?" Ironskull asked.

"Yes, please. It would be best if I didn't mix it with the Potter family accounts." Harry said pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to think. "Also, I would like to withdraw twenty-five hundred galleons from the Black trust vault, and then move the rest to my personal vault."

"You have a personal vault?" Ironskull asked with a wicked grin. 'Very intelligent Mr. Potter. There is no limit on a personal vault, but trust vaults have account limits."

"There is also another matter." Harry said. "I would like to look into buying property that I can stay at during the summer if I am not pleased with the Black or Potter family homes, or if they need work that might take a while. My Head of House recommended to looking at property in Hogsmeade so I might be able to skip the train ride to school completely."

Rotgut took notes down on a parchment. "We'll look into it and send you a list of the top ten, as well as something from Hogsmeade if something is available." He said.

"Thank you Master Rotgut. Now, I have a question. Can the Goblins retrieve an object from the Muggle World for me?" Harry asked.

"Of course Mr. Potter, what is it that you need?" Rotgut asked.

"I need a parachute." Harry said bluntly. "And I need the know how to use it without having to attend a class."

"It… can be done." Rotgut said jotting the notes down. "Unorthodoxly but it can be done. But whatever do you need a parachute for Mr. Potter?"

Harry stood up as the business was concluded. "Master Rotgut, a wise individual once told me never to ask a question that you really don't want to hear the answer to. Trust me when I say you don't want to know the answer."

-_Scene Break_-

With his hood up once more, Harry approached the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Before entering, he drew up his Deathly Aura, noting with interest that he could go further and further with less repercussions to his physical self. Of course, there was a slight mist drawing in as he began to descend the stairs, but that was just the chill of his aura.

Harry quickly found the reputation of Knockturn Alley for himself. It was a lawless area, where only the most hardened of souls would go willingly. Dark magic permeated the area like a sickening film covering everything. Prostitutes whored out their bodies, making lewd offers to any that passed by. Harry unstrapped the knife and allowed the handle to slide down into his hand. He wasn't going to go any deeper that he couldn't see the entrance to Diagon Alley without being armed.

And while his general repertoire of magical spells was laughable at the moment. He was confident in his ability to move and his ability to stab. Thankfully his aura, something that had been refined even more by his week at Hogwarts, allowed him to walk calmly and follow the taste of power that he was getting from the air.

He arrived at Borgin and Burkes, a small shop with darkly tinted windows. Harry slipped in, hearing the bell go off over head. No doubt a warning for the proprietor of the store. Harry completely ignored it and moved over to a case and looked in.

He found it quickly enough.

Inside, in the very center of black velvet, was a curled up ivory object. It looked like the vertebrae and skull of a snake, harmless in appearance and curled up quite neatly. There was a warning of some sort that warned it would kill anyone that touched it bare handed. Some fool labeled it as a whip, something that made Harry want to snort. That was as far from the truth as you could get while still having some semblance of fact.

The Harvester was a multi-purpose tool to assist Death in his duties. It was designed so that it could curl up around the forearm, with the upper skull portion of the weapon resting on the top of the hand. It was flexible, so it could in fact be used as a whip. But not only that, it could be used as a grappling hook, with the blade shooting out of the skull to allow it to dig into an object for someone. The tool could extend up to twelve feet in length; an impressive feat given it looked to be only about three feet curled up in the case.

And of course, it could extend and fold out to be the proper object that Death wielded. The skull would actually grow to proper size and the scythe blade would extend out from the top jaw running the length of the majority of the blade. It would always size itself to be a perfect fit for its wielder, no matter how tall or short they were.

If Harry got to be a seven foot tall giant of a man, the weapon would accommodate. If he was less than five feet, a dwarf of a Pale Rider really, it would also accommodate. The Harvester was the perfect tool for the Pale Rider.

And the fool had marked it for a mere thousand galleons.

"What do you want Brat?" A rude and grubby looking man asked, shuffling up beside Harry. "You'll never be able to afford anything from inside that case without asking Daddy first Brat."

"Do not be so certain." Harry said in as cold a voice as he could, which given he still had his aura up rather high was impressively cold. He tapped the glass on the object. "This is mine." Harry said.

"Bah! I've had dozens of people come in claiming the same thing Brat. If you want it, you have to buy it just like everyone else." The rude man said.

Harry turned to glare at the man, one emerald green eye showing underneath the shadow of his hood. "Fool, I would not make an idle boast. But, seeing as how you're a business man perhaps we could come to some sort of deal. I touch it with my bare hand; you slash the price in half." Harry said.

"And what do I get when you're dead and rotting up my store?" the man snarled. "Nothing of course. Nothing but a handful of Galleons from a braggart and his wand that I have to pawn at a pittance of what it's worth. Bah, fine. Your death will help charge the wards anyways." The man unlocked the case and stepped aside.

Harry sheathed his knife and unlaced the holster. He slipped it into his robes, not wanting to give up a good quality knife like that. He slid his hand over the Harvester, stroking the boney skull of the weapon. Immediately, it latched onto his arm, the bones rushing over his skin until the skull rested on the back of his left hand.

Harry turned to the rude man and held up his hand to show the Harvester. "See, completely fine."

The man looked in disbelief and narrowed his eyes. "It's still a thousand Galleons." He said.

Harry flared his aura higher, allowing his exposed hand to turn slightly skeletal. "Are you stupid you ignorant fool?" Harry asked with a snarl. However, he inhaled slowly. "Throw in every book on Death Magic in this store, and I'll give you twelve hundred galleons."

The man looked Harry over before shuffling away. It was obvious that since he didn't know what the item did on Harry's arm, he wasn't going to push his luck.

The man returned with a bundle of four black books that he put on the counter and shrank. Harry frowned a moment. Paying almost two hundred galleons a book was quite expensive to him. Harry looked up to the expectant eyes of the man. "I said every book." Harry said and felt the Harvester rise from his hand, letting off a rattling. The eye sockets began to glow green in response to his anger.

The man bolted away and eventually came back with another eight books that he made quick work of shrinking them. Harry gently pet the Harvester like it was alive and it settled back down on his hand. Dust cawed from his perch on Harry's shoulder.

Harry took great care counting out the twelve hundred galleons as he tucked the books away. He wouldn't be reading them for some time. Death Magic was, after all, banned from public reading and if the information got to Dumbledore, Harry could potentially very well be expelled.

Harry walked off, heading back towards the Leaky Cauldron. Personally, he didn't care what Dumbledore thought of Harry studying Death Magic. It was his right to study them after all. However, a thought gave him a pang of something, like remorse. He thought of Flitwick being disappointed and that actually hurt him.

Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron and passed off a few coins to Tom to use the Floo. "Here ya are Lad." Tom said, handing Harry a book on basic household charms that would help him get rid of dust and such.

Harry smiled gratefully as he moved to the fireplace. A pinch of Floo Powder and "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Charm's Office' later and Harry was off, speeding through the Floo Network. He gave a small hop but still ended up flat on his face in Flitwick's office, much to the man's humor.

Harry slowly stood up and quickly headed down for Dinner, having missed the entire day for his little excursion off to London. It was difficult to keep the Harvester hidden, at least until he got to his room.

Harry tucked his books away, as well as the Harvester in the most secured compartment of his trunk. Opening it the wrong way would actually end up having spikes thrown at the would be thief. He would do more with those later.

Harry laid himself down on his bed after changing into his pajamas. As he closed his eyes, a feeling rushed through him and he sat bolt upright, eyes wide.

A Necromancer was at Hogwarts.

End Chapter

A/N: So uh, yeah, story is chugging along quite nicely. Next chapter will be… interesting I think.

How do you guys like Death's Scythe?

See you next time!


	6. Chapter 6

Book 1

Chapter 6

Harry sat in a chair before a fire place in Ravenclaw tower. He was attempting to read a book in his lap, but the fact of the matter was that he kept struggling with it. Not because he didn't understand it, but instead because he was just having difficulty focusing. His mind was in about a thousand different directions.

It had been three days since he had his meeting with Gringotts, four since he said he was pressing charges against Snape. Yet he was nowhere closer to achieving any of his goals since he had arrived because he always found himself getting bombarded with questions.

First, Harry still didn't know what was being guarded in the Third Floor corridor. The only reason he knew that there was something being guarded was because Ron and Hermione, more Ron really, had come and told him about the Cerberus standing on a trap door. A Cerberus was often used to guard things, what with the connotation of them guarding the entrance to the Underworld.

Second, Harry still hadn't found out the source of the Death Magic he felt that first morning. It was out of the way for him and would be tricky to explain why he was heading that way. He would have to go some night when he had more free time and take the Harvester with him just to be on the safe side. The grappling hook function would allow him to ascend to the seventh floor from the Grand staircase with ease.

Third, Harry still hadn't pressed charges against Snape. Not because he was afraid to, hardly. But it was someone intercepting the mail he was worried about. If all the owls were screened, and there was no telling if they were or not, then he didn't want to trust such an important letter to be released. And he wasn't going to risk some wizard hitting Ashes with a spell either.

Fourth, was the Necromancer. Harry had felt such excitement that night. Necromancers were, according to Dust, always welcomed by Death. Their Death Magic usually empowered the Pale Rider and made him stronger. Of course, the feeling of the magic was different from the foul Death Magic he was constantly sensing, so it meant the Necromancer was not only different, but they were a fledgling also. Harry _had_ to find them before the delved too deeply into the arts without someone to keep them from being killed. Necromancers were so rare.

Of course, another scenario was them being swayed away from delving into those arts. While not necessarily a bad thing, Necromancy was not evil magic as many would have the Wizarding Community believe. It was misunderstood. Granted, most Necromancers didn't exactly help with the image either.

His last agenda was, of course, regarding his brothers and or sisters. He hadn't really been able to work on that front. The most he had done was eliminate most of Ravenclaw house. He was sure that there were a few 'claws that he had skimmed over, but he was almost certain that none of the other Riders were in the House of the Intelligent.

Of course, he then had to work on the other Houses, but again his time was being eaten up by his studies as he delved a bit more into the general course work for the next few years. He was at year two with most things, and rereading it over and over again.

That wasn't to say there weren't upsides. For one, his workings with the Potter account, and now the Black account, were slowly coming together. He had changed a third of his personal vault into Muggle monies so that it could be invested in various Muggle companies much as his mother had done. There was profit to be had, and while he wasn't going to have financial security that he could buy whatever he wanted without lifting a finger, he wasn't going to have to work for someone else either to make his fortune.

Another thing was he had found a fascinating book called Tales of Beedle the Bard. While most of it was pure junk, with bare slivers of truth, the tale of the Death Hallows had brought his attention. Dust had even confirmed that the Hallows were very much real. Of course, no mere mortal could ever hope to become the Master of Death like the story said, but the Hallows were powerful pieces of Death Magic that, according to Dust, needed to come back to Death.

Harry was certain that the Elder Wand would reveal itself once more in due time. It always was at the center of bloody conflict. It had been the wand of Vlad the Impaler before he became Dracula. The cloak, Dust assured him, would come to him. He wasn't certain how the crow knew that the Invisibility Cloak would come back to him, but he was certain that Dust was correct. This left the Resurrection Stone. The stone did not pop up in and out of history the way the wand did, so that would be trickier to find.

Then of course, there were other artifacts of the Pale Rider, like the Harvester, that Harry still needed to find. The cowl, his gauntlet, and Despair were pretty much all that were left to find, but then again Harry was almost positive that when he found the other Riders, he would have to help them find their horses and artifacts.

War's equipment was probably going to be an absolute pain to get due to all the battle magic and battle enchantments on it. It would drive the wrong wearer mad with battle lust. Which, technically thinking about it, was actually the lightest punishment to using anything of the Riders. Harry's equipment Cowl would just kill the offender and steal their soul. War's would give anyone battle lust, literally fighting until their body was destroyed to a state that it could not be used by the armor anymore. Famine's would actually cause the wearer to starve, food and water would turn to ash in their mouth. Pestilence, or Plague as Dust said the two had been interchanged over the many incarnations, would literally begin to rot the body away, cause boils and sores, maggots would grow and rats would follow and feast on the person whenever they slept.

The enchantments placed on the objects were quite powerful.

"You look like shite Harry." Came a voice.

Harry looked up and closed the book he was going to just have to give up getting through this time. He watched the sandy blonde haired first year with brown eyes full of mischief sit down. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth Mr. Boot?" Harry asked. He liked Terry. There was a simplicity to him that made him easy to get along with, no matter the group of friends he was with.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt me Harry." Terry said with a grin. He had been enjoying the basic freedoms like that at Hogwarts a little much. "What's eating you?"

Harry sat back a little bit and rotated his neck. "So many things I have going on Mr. Boot. A good deal of them I'd rather not talk about, no offense to you. Of course, the gurgle from the gaggle of giggling girls over there is not helping me." Harry jerked his head to a group of older years talking about something Harry hadn't been really interested in to begin with.

Terry raised an eyebrow at the words. "Bit of fancy words to describe them isn't that?" he asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I saw an opportunity and used it. Besides, I thought it was a nice alliteration. What are they going on about anyways?"

"Divination classes. Apparently a prediction from the teacher came true." Terry said. "Of course, this is also the woman that every year she'll foretell a student's death, so I really don't see the reason to be excited myself. Especially since she's been wrong in the ten years she's been here, and that's figuring five years' worth of students also that she foretells. "

"So she's not really a Seer then?" Harry asked frowning. Why would they have a subject taught by a fraud? Why not drop it for a better course like Alchemy?

"Well, I didn't exactly say that." Terry said. "I've heard some upper years talking. They swear they've heard her slip into a sort of trance like state where her voice goes all gravely. She predicted a student getting injured, and they got injured in the exact manner she predicted, no matter what they did to stop it."

Harry frowned thoughtfully. That seemed more like a prediction rather than an actual prophecy. "And where is this class? I think I might want to go speak with the Professor. Maybe get some insight behind the Seer.' He said

"It's in the South Tower." Terry said.

Harry nodded. "If you're such a fountain of information Mr. Boot, I don't suppose you know how I can press charges against Mr. Snape without sending an owl out." Harry said.

Terry rubbed his chin a bit, as though thinking. "Well, you could ask Susan Bones of Hufflepuff." He said.

Harry blinked. "Ms. Bones?" Harry asked. He remembered the redhead from potions that managed to pull him from his anger, at least until Snape reignited it quite easily.

"Oh right, forget sometimes you've been out of touch with the Wizarding World. Susan's aunt is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or DMLE for short. If anyone can help you, it'd be Susan."

Harry nodded and stood up. "Thank you Mr. Boot, you've been most helpful." Harry said and put his book away on the shelf. Harry then headed out of the Ravenclaw Tower, which was the East tower.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry found himself under the South Tower, looking up at the ladder to the Divination classroom. Already, he could smell a strong smell of incense with an under hint of Sherry. He drew his hood up and used a bit of glamour magic on his robes to hide the Ravenclaw crest and color. It would be best not to be noticeable.

He drew upon his aura and began to ascend the ladder, pushing the trap door open slightly, glancing around. Since no one was inside the room except for the Divination Professor, he climbed up fully and allowed the trapdoor to shut.

The Divination teacher was shaking, holding her wand out. "I know who you are Pale Rider!" she said in a gravelly voice, tears streaming down her face. "And I will not let you take me! It is not my time!"

Harry found it fascinating. It seemed the Seer was actually able to tell who he was and it had forced her into a sort of trance. "Peace Seer, I am here in need of some information."

"I am not the one to help you in your quest." The Professor said, shaking, her wand threatening to shake out of her hand. "The one to help you will reveal herself. I cannot help you find the other Riders."

Harry frowned a moment. But he wasn't angry either. He had hoped for a bit of information on the other Riders and while what she said was useless to him in the long run, he knew that another Seer would reveal herself to help him in his quest.

Harry tapped his foot, thinking for a moment on how to turn the situation to his advantage. He wasn't going to kill the Seer. There was no point to that. "I need you to Scry an object for me." Harry finally said. He had the perfect idea.

The Professor's eyes seemed to roll into the back of her head. "The Stone, thrice turned to return those gone, it lies in the House of its Lord. Beware, an usurper has tainted the Stone. He believes he can Cheat that which cannot be Cheated. Beware Pale One, the Child of Cadmus can claim your Right. Though the Child of Ignotus has Won, the Child of Cadmus can still win."

Harry nodded his head as the Seer's eyes rolled back from gazing somewhere unseen. "As payment, Seer, I swear as the Horsemen of Death, I shall never darken your classroom ever again. You will not see me until it is your time." Harry felt the binding take place before he turned and opened the trapdoor.

He headed down, thinking about the riddle that the Seer had placed on him. He knew he was the 'Child of Ignotus' as the Potter family was descended from Ignotus Peverell. Dust had confirmed that much when talking about the Hallows. But the Child of Cadmus… That was where Harry was lost. Cadmus' line was believed to have been lost.

Harry raked a hand through his hair very slowly. He'd see if the Goblins would be willing to help him in his search for Cadmus' descendent. He shook his head and began to head on down to dinner.

-_Scene break-_

Harry found himself eating with his back to the Gryffindors that night for dinner. It allowed his eyes to begin scanning up and down the rows of Hufflepuffs chatting to themselves quite admirably. The house was a united front, and if Harry was honest with at least himself, he was impressed by it.

He really hoped that one of them was one of the Horsemen. Of course, at the moment he had that set to the side for a more pressing matter really. That pressing matter was of course looking for the person he was looking for.

It wasn't hard to find the redhead girl, laughing with a girl with blonde pigtails.

Harry finished his dinner and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He rose from his seat and moved over to the House of Badgers, moving past many of them who instantly began to watch him as though one of their own were threatened.

He paused beside Susan for a moment. "Ms. Bones? Might I have a word with you in private please?" Harry asked.

Harry saw the brief confusion and possible fear flitter across her eyes. Harry had, thus far, not really requested to speak with any student. He had not initiated contact with any of them. He had set his work, both financial and educational, before any social engagement. There had been rumors abound about him, that he frankly ignored. They would die down soon enough after all. However, despite all of this, Susan gave a brief nod. She wiped her mouth and stood.

"Sue, are you sure about this?" One of the older males asked. He looked to be about a fourth year student.

Susan smiled. "It's alright Cedric." She said before she looked to Harry. 'Lead the way?" she asked.

Harry inclined his head and began to lead the way out. He was aware of many sets of eyes on him throughout the main hall. He didn't care though. Although, Susan seemed to be fidgeting under the gazes of the other students.

Harry led them to the antechamber where they congregated on that first night, before they were sorted. Harry glanced up and down, making sure there were no portraits. He knew the Ghosts would not spy on him, they were too terrified of him to do so. But the portraits were another story. He nodded when he was satisfied.

Susan looked a little worried. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Checking for possible spies." Harry said rather bluntly. He then turned to look at the redhead fully. "First of all Ms. Bones, I wish to thank you. That day in Potions class, you helped draw me out of my anger. Granted, Mr. Snape quickly plunged me back in, I will give gratitude where it is due. If there is something in my power than you want, I will grant it."

Susan flushed brightly. "Ah, well… you're welcome. Can I hold onto that wish for a little while?" she asked.

Harry nodded his head. "That's fine. But I wanted to get that out of the way before I ask something of you. I'm told your Aunt is head of the DMLE. Do you have a way I can contact her without an owl? I'm worried someone might try to intercept it when I attempt to press charges against Mr. Snape." Harry said.

Susan blinked slowly. "I thought you weren't going to press charges, but just generally stay out of his classes."

"I was, until Professor Dumbledore invited Mr. Snape into a meeting regarding that incident while I was in the room. This, obviously, did not turn out too well as I am now pressing charges against Mr. Snape." Harry said quite simply.

Susan nodded softly and fished out a locket from her school robes. She opened it up to reveal a mirror. "Auntie Amelia." She said to the mirror.

Harry was quite surprised when he heard an older woman's voice come through the locket. "Susie? What's wrong? Shouldn't you be at dinner?"

"I was, but something came up that needs your attention Auntie." Susan said. "Another student wants to press charges against a Professor but he's worried about the owls."

"Oh my… please tell me it isn't Snape." The woman said.

"It is Auntie." Susan said.

Harry heard an audible sigh. "I'd like to help, I really would, but we're going to need a lot more than him berating a student to get the charges to stick."

"Just hear him out Auntie." Susan said and passed the locket over to Harry.

"Would calling you Madam Bones be fine?" Harry asked first. "I don't want to call you Ms. Bones and have you confused with your niece." He tried to adjust the mirror so that he was certain his whole face was showing.

Susan giggled. "You don't have to maneuver it Harry. It'll show your entire face just fine on Auntie's end."

Harry glanced to the mirror and held it a little closer then. He could see the older woman with a monocle in her eye. She looked like a much older version of Susan, with streaks of grey in her red hair. She had an amused smile on her face. "Madam Bones would be fine. It is good to finally see you face-to-face, so to speak, Mr. Potter. Now what's this about pressing charges against Snape? It's got to be rather serious, Dumbledore likes to get him off."

"Child endangerment, mental assault on a minor, misuse of the Legilimens Curse, endangerment of several Heirs of Noble Houses all sound like good places to start with me." Harry said rather bluntly.

Amelia blinked a moment before there was some rustling on her end as she obviously got a quill and some parchment. "Go on Mr. Potter, give it to me in as much detail as possible."

And Harry did. He gave a full run down of what he had seen, what he had smelled, what he had felt, what he had learned. It took twenty minutes, with him looking around from time to time to make sure there wasn't a spy listening in, to detail everything that he had come up with for charging Snape. He watched as Amelia's face went from stoic Auror to pissed off Auror.

"Expect something tomorrow Mr. Potter." Amelia said before the mirror turned blank.

Harry closed the locket and handed it to Susan. "That's quite a handy trinket Ms. Bones."

Susan smiled, a bit weakly since she had listened to him list everything off and realized how much her life had actually been in danger in the classroom. "Auntie said she got it from your dad as a means to keep in touch between her and my uncle."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think I'll head to bed." Harry said.

Susan nodded and moved back to the Great Hall, taking a seat beside the other first years. Harry saw them badgering her with questions but she couldn't answer any of them, just telling everyone they'd learn tomorrow.

Harry headed up to Ravenclaw Tower feeling a bit of weight off his shoulders.

-_Scene Break-_

It was breakfast when the show started. Amelia Bones entered the Great Hall with a full contingent of twelve Aurors at her back. This was also with a portly man that sort of looked like a walrus, and three men in dark blue robes with hoods that also covered their faces.

"Madam Bones," Dumbledore said, moving from the Staff Table. "How can we help you today?" he asked a bit nervously. He had not expected this when Harry had spoken with Susan the night before.

"You can stay the Hell out of my way Headmaster." Amelia said. "Chief Warlock or not, I'm in the middle of an investigation and I will arrest you if you impede it." She said this in a lower whisper. "I need all First Year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to follow Auror Shacklebolt!" she called out.

There was some shuffling as students got up to follow the tall dark skinned Auror who had raised his wand to show who he was. The three Wizards in blue robes also moved with the dark skinned Auror.

"Severus Tobias Snape, you will follow Auror Moody." Amelia said and a scarred man with a vibrant electric blue magical eye spinning around hobbled forward to lead Snape to a different room from the First Years.

"You four," she pointed to four of the Aurors. "Escort Mr. Slughorn down to the dungeons so that he might inspect them and give us his professional opinion." She said.

"Madam Bones, could I ask what the possible charges are expected to be?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, you can't Headmaster. If Snape choses to inform you what he's being charged with, then you will find out then. If not, it will be when you appear in court if we find sufficient evidence to charge Snape with." Amelia said before turning on her heel and leaving with the rest of her Aurors to follow the first years to get the questions out of the way.

-_Scene Break-_

"Mr. Potter, if you'll come with us." The Wizards in blue asked Harry, leading him into a separate classroom.

Harry took a seat at the desk offered and noticed a few signs. There were four in total. Three were marked simple '1, 2, and 3' while the last was simply black in color. Harry watched as the three wizards sat in front of him in desks that corresponded to the letters.

"Mr. Potter, we are from the Department of Mysteries. We are Unspeakables that are versed in the Mind Arts. We're here today to validate that you have Occlumency barriers and can detect a mental attack, if you consent. If your familiar would leave your shoulder, we can begin." Said the Unspeakable in the middle.

Harry glanced to Dust and nodded softly. "Go ahead." He said. He then turned his attention back to the Unspeakables. "What do I need to do?"

"If you detect an attack, hold up the black card. Then, if you can tell where it is coming from, we want you to hold up one of the numbered cards." The man in the middle said.

Harry nodded. It was a simple test, rudimentary. He felt something sliding across his barriers and held up the black card. He tried to focus and feel where it was coming from but shook his head.

This continued with various sensations. One was like water rushing over them, one was like a spike being driven in, one was like a hammer being smashed into it, one was like a fire consuming the barriers. Harry began to sweat slightly. One was like a feather brushing over it. One was like a hand caressing the barriers. Every few seconds or so, he'd hold up the black card over and over again.

However, at no time did Harry touch the numbered cards. He just wasn't quite skilled enough yet to detect where an attack was coming from.

The lead Unspeakable nodded his head before standing up with his colleagues. "We're off to report our findings now Mr. Potter. Auror Shacklebolt will be with you momentarily to get your statement." The three then left, leaving Harry with a pounding headache.

Harry rubbed his temples a bit, feeling Dust come down to comfort him. The three Unspeakables had only used subtle attempts. After all, there was no visual representation that they had been casting the curse on him. No words were spoken either. They simply just brushed against Harry's mind, much the way it had been over the course of the past week and a half.

Of course, he had only had his mind checked three times over the past week and a half and in the past thirty minutes, Harry had his mind assaulted several times, sometimes they had undoubtedly worked in tandem to try and break through Harry's shields. It left his skull throbbing and truthfully he felt nauseous. There was a throbbing right behind his right eye.

Finally the door opened to admit the tall dark-skinned Auror who sat down across from Harry with a friendly smile on his face, no doubt to try and put Harry at ease about what was going to be a cumbersome process. "Hello Mr. Potter, my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. Please, call me Kingsley."

"Auror Shack- Kingsley." Harry corrected himself. It was almost automatic to call someone by their title and their last name. It was a habit really. But Kingsley had given him leave to use his first name. He recognized that over the past few weeks he could be considered rather cold towards everyone, but it was more cordial than that. Using manners was a sort of defensive mechanism that he developed.

"The Unspeakables weren't too rough were they Mr. Potter?" Kingsley asked.

"No, they did their job and I had consented to it." Harry said. Even though his head was splitting wide open. "And please, call me Harry." He said softly. He wasn't sure why he was giving a stranger complete leave to use his first name. Even his account managers called him Mr. Potter. Perhaps it was the genuine warmth that seemed to come from the Auror.

"Harry it is then. You know, I want to say, it is an honor to meet you." Kingsley said. "I knew your father during his time at the Auror Corps. Even knew of him during his time here at Hogwarts. Of course, I was three years ahead and in a different House, but I did know of James."

And there it was. Kingsley was an open soul. Not naïve, the information given after all was completely useless and irrelevant to the situation at hand, but Kingsley told a little bit of his past, of a connection to Harry's father. "Which House did you belong to?" Harry asked a little curiously.

"Ravenclaw. I became Head Boy my seventh year and I was Quidditch Captain. Failed to keep the cup from your father's hands, but…" Kingsley shrugged in a manner like he was say 'What can I do?' "Have to hand it to James, he could have gone pro. I played Keeper myself. Any interest in trying out in the coming years?"

His father had played the sport? That was a nugget of information to chew on. "Not really." Harry said. It wasn't going to sway his interest in the slightest about Quidditch. 'Personally, I find the sport rather… boring."

Kingsley choked like he had just swallowed a harsh lemon. "Boring!?" he called out. "For those fourteen players up there, it's the most exhilarating time of their lives! Players zipping by on brooms, Bludgers threatening to break their body, the seeker having to pull feints and dives to catch a ball the size of a walnut!"

"I've jumped from the top of my Aunt and Uncle's house." Harry said simply. "No broom, no levitation, no cushioning charms."

Kingsley's eyes widened almost comically. "Madness! What drove you to do such a thing?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "It was fun and I was training. I needed to be able to take a fall without breaking anything. Have to say though, was not a fun experience. One story buildings, no problem. Two stories? Then I'm sore. But the thrill…" Harry couldn't stop the grin from threatening to split his face. "That feeling of freefall, of knowing your body is in the wind's hands and your own skill. That is where the rush comes in."

Kingsley shook his head. "You should definitely try out for Seeker then. You'll enjoy being on the broom and plummeting from a hundred feet only to pull up at ten , your broom's bristles literally brushing the pitch as the gee forces take a hold on your body."

Harry was surprised that the Auror knew about a Muggle science enough to know about gee forces. Harry just knew the very basics behind it, but nothing more. He knew the force of Gravity measured on the body were Gee forces and that it could increase on hard turns. "How do you know about gee forces?"

"Madam Bones runs a tight ship Harry." Kingsley said. "If you have to work undercover for the Prime Minister, she makes sure you can blend in with the Muggles. All Aurors that have to do undercover work must have at least their A-levels and we don't just give them out either."

Harry supposed that made some sense. A commanding officer wouldn't want someone to go out and give up information by not knowing the proper information. By making the Aurors have their A-levels, they at least knew the basics of maths and sciences so the Muggles wouldn't know the difference.

"I do believe you're to take my statement." Harry said after a moment of realizing he had gotten way off topic.

Kingsley nodded and took out some parchment and a self-inking quill. The questions began.

-_Scene Break-_

Two hours, that was how long it took. Two hours after the Aurors had arrived they had all the evidence and statements they needed and reported as such to Amelia. Amelia made the decision once she felt like she had all the facts at the given time.

"Severus Tobias Snape," Amelia said, entering the room that Snape was in, speaking with Dumbledore. "you are hereby under arrest. The charges are multiple counts of Child endangerment, multiple counts of endangerment of an Heir of a Noble House, one count misuse of the Legilimens Curse, one count assault on a minor, one count assault on the Heir of a Noble House. Kingsley, the shackles." Amelia said.

The large dark skinned Auror moved forward with a pair of manacles etched with runes. Snape stuck his hands out for them to be placed on with a sneer. He was, obviously, not happy about it. But he knew fighting it would just make things look worse.

Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose momentarily. "I will accompany you so that I can learn more details so that I can put together Severus' defense." Dumbledore said and quickly cast a Patronus of a goat to explain to McGonagall that he was leaving the castle for the time.

This was going to be a nightmare.

End Chapter

A/N: So there we have it. Snape is in custody. I'm still up in the air about how the trial will go, but the next chapter should be away from Harry's perspective for a bit as well.

Soyanara.


	7. Chapter 7

Book 1

Chapter 7

Dumbledore followed Amelia into a simple office where they could discuss the charges being pressed against Severus. He tried to keep calm, but he had never expected things to turn out this way. In truth, he was more than a little worried. He had no idea who the Solicitor being used would be, he had no idea the full extent of the charges, he had no idea what sort of evidence there was.

He never would have imagined, not in a thousand years, that when he placed Harry with his Aunt and Uncle so many years ago that this would occur. Dumbledore wasn't a fool either; he knew that he could trace the cause of this problem back to Harry, and to Severus. Dumbledore wasn't blind to the fact that Severus very likely could have prevented this by swallowing his own pride.

Dumbledore had expected Harry to arrive at Hogwarts well taken care of. Maybe a bit introverted, as many Muggle Born and Raised tended to be, but taken care of. In fact, when Harry walked in with his head held high even under the hood that obscured his face, he had been hopeful. He wasn't some starved child, he didn't look abused. He had thought that Harry would be exactly as he had hoped to be. Not a child with a swollen ego, but a child that would be humble, caring, even forgiving.

But everything had been dashed quickly. He had called Harry to his office to ask about the monitoring wards placed on Number 4 Privet Drive when he had placed Harry there, only to find himself rebuked at every turn. He would not attend the meeting without Fillius there, something that had pleased Dumbledore and worried him in the same instance. He had been pleased because Harry couldn't have picked a better man to have in his corner, but he had been worried because Harry was extremely guarded nonetheless. It had been… infuriating if Dumbledore was honest.

The funds, he admitted to himself, had been a mistake. It had not been his intention to steal from Harry's vault. He had just forgotten that James and Lily had paid for all seven years in advance. It made him briefly wonder if there was any merit to people telling him to step down from his posts. But he couldn't help it if he didn't remember every little thing. He tried, desperately, to keep up. Most parents didn't pay in advance.

The way he talked about his fascination with the Thestrals had made his old heart soar and sink all at once. There was Joy to the boy! He radiated with a happiness that blazed like the brilliance of a thousand suns when he spoke of the Thestrals, no matter how briefly he talked about them. But he had seen death already. At such a young age, he had seen death. No one should ever be made to see death at such a young age and his heart went out to Harry for it.

He had been worried that Harry would turn as dark as Tom had. Harry practically devoured his magical studies with a ravenous appetite Dumbledore hadn't seen since Tom or perhaps Fillius. But the presence of a Gringotts Transfer box every other morning or so put that notion to rest for Dumbledore. He had seen many a young Heir or Emancipated Lord with such a thing. Harry was keeping up with his finances and his studies, and given the vastness of the Potter fortune, Dumbledore had no doubt in his mind that Harry was progressing in his studies so much so that he didn't fall behind.

Dumbledore's heart had soared for a moment when he saw Harry and the youngest Mr. Weasley talking. However, that was quickly stamped down. It occurred to Dumbledore that Harry did not see any of his peers as friends. They were simply his peers. Harry took being introverted to a whole other level. It was like he had built a fortress around his heart and refused just about everyone entrance.

Then Minerva came to him about a wonderful thing. Harry excelled at Transfiguration! Dumbledore held a soft spot for his old teaching post, and to hear a student completed a task like that, even one so basic, on the first try had been wondrous to hear about. Harry had even offered a well thought out explanation for how he did it. But that hadn't been what Minerva had said that had truly shocked Dumbledore. Harry sat beside a Slytherin girl, even seemed to have a friendly and civil conversation with her!

It seemed like there would be a possibility to bridge the divides between the school houses!

Then the youngest Mr. Weasley had come to speak with Harry. In truth, Dumbledore had been most apprehensive about that. He knew the animosity between not only the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, but also between the Weasley and Malfoy families. The reputation of Slytherin House was not exactly unfounded, but at the same time it was indeed blown out of proportions. He had seen many students graduate from Slytherin House and not become Dark Wizards. In fact, Alastor Moody was one such individual and had become quite the fierce Auror who had been a boon to have during the War with Voldemort.

More remained neutral on deeply pressing matters, such as equality rights, than Dumbledore would have liked if he was honest. But that was simply how things went. Slytherins were cunning and ambitious after all, so they tended to look out for themselves before others. It didn't bother Dumbledore too much, they weren't dark after all.

But Harry had surprised him yet once more! He hadn't fallen to the thinking of his peers. Harry had a rather progressive way of thinking where the sins of the father did not fall upon the son. And he had stated as such before everyone. He didn't shy in the spotlight. He was unafraid of being scorned or alienated from his peers for his way of thinking.

Then the fiasco during the Potions class had occurred. At first, he thought the entire situation was blown out of proportion. That Harry had a simple dislike for Severus for some reason that caused him to go to Poppy. Dumbledore let it go, thinking Harry would cool off and after a civil conversation where he could get the child to see the merits of giving others a second chance all would be well between the Potion's professor and the Potter heir.

If Dumbledore was once more honest with himself, and he tried to be at all times, then he had at first listened to Severus about Harry's overreaction. He had been as big of a fool as his brother called him to be.

The second meeting of the school year had been rather disastrous. Fillius came in like some sort of rage filled demon possessed, with his anger well justified. Dumbledore had been accused of a great many things over his life. A great deal of them had hurt. But when Fillius, a man Dumbledore believed to be a trusted friend, had actually believed he would slip Harry a potion of some sort, Dumbledore had felt like he had been cut to his very soul.

It ranked up there with when Aberforth had accused him of being the cause of Arianna's death.

Dumbledore allowed his thoughts to go to the young man in question. Harry Potter. The boy was an enigma to Dumbledore. He was up every morning performing death defying feats. Running and jumping, catching and lifting himself up all along the Grand Staircase. Dumbledore knew because the portraits came running to tell him about it. He didn't use them as a series of spies like everyone might believe him to do, but he used them to get help for a student when a student was in danger.

He, Poppy, Minerva, and Fillius all arrived to watch as Harry had leapt from the seventh floor down to the fifth floor landing, catching himself on the banisters before lifting himself up with an athleticism that Dumbledore didn't see in even the most devout of Quidditch professionals. Poppy offered the explanation that his magic probably helped keep him fit and strong so long as he worked out, making him faster and likely stronger than the average wizard. Harry hadn't disturbed any of the students, so he allowed the exercise routine to continue.

He devoured knowledge with an incredible rate. He drew obscure books from his bags, additional reading on his various classes that were known, but not widely used. Dumbledore would swear he thought he had seen a book on Runes before as well, like Harry was studying ahead to decide which electives to take.

He had heard of Harry speaking to some of the older students, wondering about things like Alchemy and Conjuration, two very advanced forms of magic that a First year was very unlikely to be able to understand the first thing about. Dumbledore himself hadn't started in Alchemy until he was almost fifty.

Conjuration not until after he defeated Gellert.

In all honesty, Dumbledore was terrified to his bones. He was terrified of Harry turning dark in his pursuit of knowledge. Magic had a way of lulling someone in without anything to keep them from being swayed.

Dumbledore was far too old, far too tired to have to lead the charge against a third Dark Lord. He had a gut feeling already that Tom wasn't gone for good. Harry Potter going to the Darkness terrified him more than he was willing to admit.

"Have a seat Albus." Amelia said, motioning to a desk.

Dumbledore took his seat slowly rubbing his eyes a bit underneath his spectacles. "Be honest with me Amelia, please. How bad off is Severus?" he asked.

"I believe I can answer that for you." A female voice said from behind.

Dumbledore turned to see a woman with long dark hair and vibrant blue eyes. He almost groaned a bit. Andromeda Tonks was not a woman he wanted to be the Solicitor pressing charges. "It's good to see you Andromeda." Still, he wasn't going to skip the pleasantries.

"The same to you Albus." Andromeda said, sitting on the side with Amelia. "Let me explain everything. Amelia contacted me shortly before she headed to Hogwarts. She then sent a Patronus my way when she served Snape. I just got back from speaking with Mr. Potter who is pressing the charges.

"Snape is in deep hot water. If we were to drop everything but the counts of child endangerment, and even make it a simple case of accidental child endangerment, Severus Snape is still looking at three years per count. He's being charged with over a hundred counts of child endangerment Albus." Andromeda said simply.

Dumbledore looked like he had been quite thoroughly smacked in the face. "How?!" he cried out, desperately wanting to know how _that_ had happened.

"On an average of ten children per class, per year, two classes per week per year with the exception of sixth and seventh years which we'll say are only about one class a week." Andromeda said. "Twenty students per year, ten for sixth and seventh years and you're looking at one hundred and twenty students Albus, in the first week alone."

Dumbledore looked in disbelief. "I know how many students Andromeda; I want to know how they were in any form of danger with Severus!"

"The ceiling." Amelia said. "When you brew potions, it creates fumes which rise up to the ceiling. These fumes condense but aren't enough to drip from the ceiling so it creates a residue that the next set of fumes heats up until eventually it will mix together and drip down. Truth be told, the Potions Classroom was a ticking time bomb Albus. It's pure luck it hasn't exploded."

"Professor Slughorn," Andromeda said taking over. "Has verified that the ceilings were absolutely coated in residue from potions. Not just one type of potion Albus, but over fifty. It was pure luck that it didn't explode and cause a collapse of the ceiling." She said. "Professor Slughorn brewed a quick potion and used some of the residue to see a test. A simple Boil Cure potion that is the first potion a First Year learns how to brew blew up when the residue was added Albus. It blew up with enough force to send shrapnel from the cauldron all over the place. Strong barriers around the desk were all that kept those testing it from being injured."

Dumbledore sat back, looking absolutely mortified at the idea that there had almost been an entire class of casualties. And that was if the ceiling wasn't blown apart and forced to collapse. Dumbledore was completely shaken, not knowing what had happened.

"Professor Slughorn spent the entire first month with the First years teaching nothing but Potion safety." Andromeda said. "He taught us to look all over the place for where any Potion residue might have been. I remembered, Albus, standing on the desk and scrubbing the ceiling when I was a First Year. I remember scrubbing my cauldron, my knives, my stirrers, everything for a grade. And Horace Slughorn was not just Snape's Potions Professor, but also his Potions Master. I can't in a right mind say that Snape did this under anything but pure neglect. He knew the proper safety measures but hasn't taken them. I asked around Albus, even talked to Nymphadora, yet there wasn't any mention of any safety courses to be had. And please remember that this is all based on throwing out every other charge except for the Child Endangerment."

Dumbledore slumped in his chair a bit. Three years for each count of the one hundred and twenty counts of Child Endangerment. Five because it wasn't accidental. Snape would be ash and dust by the time he was out of Azkaban.

"You said you just got back from speaking with Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, looking up. "I take it he's not in any mind to let the charges drop."

"Hardly Albus, especially not after the Aurors got ahold of the child endangerment." Andromeda said. "However, Harry is willing to let most of it slide."

Amelia looked to Dumbledore and spoke then. "If Severus pleads guilty, he won't go to Azkaban. Instead, he'll have his teaching credentials revoked, he'll never be allowed an apprentice and he'll brew potions for the Ministry for the rest of his life. He'll be paid; he'll be tracked at all times. This is the best possible solution and only if Severus pleads guilty to all charges."

Dumbledore sat back. He could feel his heart beating hard. He could hardly believe things had gotten that bad. He remembered his own Potions Professor drilling safety into their heads. Even his old friend, Nicholas Flamel, had drilled safety into his mind. Yet Severus was just letting the students brew without any safety measures being taken?

"There will also be a fine of fifty thousand galleons." Andromeda said. "That will be split evenly between Saint Mungos and the Auror division of the Ministry. Because of Snape's negligence, those two places have been hit the worse. He will have to pay it back over his entire life time."

"That seems to be a bit much." Dumbledore said. "Surely we can get it cut down a bit."

"Albus, I want you to remember that _I _only made an Exceeds Expectations on my Potion's OWL." Amelia said as a way of rebuking that idea. "And here I am, running the DMLE now. Snape's negligence has likely caused many a student that would probably get an Outstanding get only an Exceeds Expectations. He then outright bars them from his NEWT level Potions, because they got marked off for safety that he never taught."

"But so much?" Dumbledore asked.

Andromeda sat back. "Very well, let's take it to court. Let's take a former Death Eater who never got a trial to court for the mental assault of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived." She said. "You and I both know that Snape will be crucified, figuratively and possibly literally. And I assure you, I have the report from the Unspeakables. Mr. Potter's barriers are strong enough to keep out any and all subtle attempt while alerting him to the intrusion. A defense advocate might make a case that Harry couldn't possibly know who the Legilimens probe had come from, but we both know that won't hold water. One adult in a room full of eleven year olds?"

Dumbledore could already hear the riots in the streets. "Every charge?" he asked softly.

"Every count of Child Endangerment and the counts of Endangerment of the Heirs to a Noble House." Andromeda said. "Mr. Potter is willing to forgo the Assault, Misuse of the Legilimens Curse, and Assault on the Heir of a Noble House. So yes, Severus Snape will still be quite thoroughly and irrevocably in hot water, but he won't be crucified for attempting the mind of Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore rose to his feet slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose once more. "Where is Severus so that I might speak with him Amelia?"

"Holding Cell A5." Amelia said. "Auror Dawlish will escort you down there." She said.

Dumbledore turned and left the room pondering all that he had been told. 'Hello John." He said to the Auror stationed by the entrance to the Holding Cells. "I'm here to see Severus Snape. Amelia said he's in Cell A5."

Dawlish set down his quill and parchment before standing up. "I have to ask you to leave your wand on the desk." When Dumbledore complied, he got the key and headed into the holding cells. He paused by the door with a large A on it, unlocking the fifth lock with the key.

Dumbledore knew each of the holding cells held up to ten prisoners, and there were ten holding cells per door, with ten doors. It worked, in theory, very similar to a multi-compartment trunk. Getting out was near impossible. It would be even for someone like Dumbledore.

Dawlish stood to the side of the door with his wand out, obviously prepared if Snape tried to get out. Dumbledore moved into the cell quietly to see Snape sitting there quite calmly on the cot. Dumbledore moved to sit beside him on the cot, enough for the space of one person to be between them.

"When am I getting out of here Albus?" Snape asked.

"You're not." Dumbledore said. "Severus, I could pull every political favor I have earned over my many, many years, empty my vaults with bribes in your favor, and still you would be sentenced to life in Azkaban on the most minor of charges that are being levied against you."

Snape bolted right up. "What in blazes are you talking about!?" he asked loudly. "Are you telling me that Harry Potter, a pampered and foolish boy, has managed to outwit the great Albus Dumbledore?!" he sneered.

"Sit down Severus." Dumbledore said in a hard voice. He watched as Snape briefly debated before sitting down. "Now I don't know the safety measures you take in your classroom. I let the Professors themselves run their ship their way so long as the students are in no danger. However, you forgot the crucial necessity and safety measure of cleaning everything properly. The past eight years of Potions brewing has built up on the ceiling of your classroom. This residue caused a Cure Boils potion to explode violently. Horace will testify against you if this goes to court. He is a man of comfort, but one thing he cannot abide by is the lack of safety in Potions. For this school year alone, a week of school, they can charge you with one hundred and twenty counts of Endangering a Child. That's five years because Horace will say he had taught you the importance of cleaning the ceiling and I know he did. Six hundred years you'll be facing Severus."

Snape's eyes widened and his face took an even paler shade. "Surely there is something you can do Albus!"

"The charges against you for assault on a minor, assault on the heir of a Noble House, and misuse of the Legilimens Curse are willing to be dropped." Dumbledore said, turning to look Snape in the eyes. "You will go up with me to see Amelia Bones and Andromeda Tonks. You will sign the ruling that you will plead Guilty for the rest of the charges. You will never have an apprentice, you will never be allowed to teach a student ever again, you will be fined fifty thousand galleons that you will pay, and you will work for the Ministry as a Potion's Master for the rest of your life. If you're lucky, you can petition to work at Saint Mungos where you might be required to brew trickier Potions. But as of this moment Severus, my hands were solidly tied by your actions. Mr. Potter may have gotten the ball rolling so to speak, but you, to copy a Muggle term, screwed the pooch with your actions."

"Then I will get someone who can do something!" Snape said viciously. "Potter's brat will rue the day he's done this to me!"

'You will get absolutely destroyed in Court." Dumbledore said bluntly. "Mr. Potter has already understood the importance of his fame and who exactly he is. Think for a moment Severus. I got you off without a trial for your part in the war. Now, you target who many believe to be the biggest hero of the war with the Legilimens Curse. If you were even to get off on everything else, you would still be killed by the public for that charge alone. We both know it."

Snape looked murderous, but Dumbledore decided to cut him off from speaking. "Instead of seeing Mr. Potter as James Potter's son, you never even thought to see him as Lily Evans' son. She would be ashamed of what you have done Severus." Dumbledore rose to his feet. He would not help Snape this time if he was looking to fight the charges.

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment. "I just have to agree to the endangerment of children and the endangerment of the heirs of Noble houses?" he asked quietly as Dumbledore looked quite ready to leave.

"That is all." Dumbledore said turning to glance at Snape, not really knowing what was going through the man's mind.

"Who will you get to take over for my Snakes?" Snape asked. "Who will teach Potions?"

"I will ask Horace if he would consent to come out of retirement, at least until I can find a suitable replacement once more." Dumbledore said.

Snape sighed audibly. "Very well. I will plead guilty." He said standing.

It was a matter of moments before they were once more in the office with Amelia Bones and Andromeda Tonks. Snape looked to the Blood quill placed beside the parchment with obvious distaste on his face. Dumbledore was momentarily worried that he wouldn't sign it. That this would go to court and there would be some ugliness dragged out.

These fears were unfounded however when Snape picked the quill up and signed the parchment, binding it to him. "I have twenty thousand galleons in my vault at Gringotts that I can spare, would this suffice to begin with?" Snape asked. He had been meticulously saving up for years. Most of it had come from Lucius to tutor Draco in the various arts. He had been saving it for retirement, so that he wouldn't have to deal with Hogwarts' students.

Andromeda duplicated the parchment and gave Dumbledore a copy, Amelia a copy, and Snape a copy. She kept one for herself and rolled it up. "Yes, I do believe that will be everything. Good day then." She said as she let herself out.

Dumbledore rolled up his own copy and shook his head. "I must give Horace a job offer." Dumbledore said with a slight sigh. "Good day Amelia, Severus." He then promptly walked out.

-_Scene Break-_

Dumbledore arrived at his old friend and colleague's home. He wasn't entirely certain how he was going to convince Horace to come back to Hogwarts and become a Professor again. Last he heard Slughorn had been happy in his retirement. No worries to his lifestyle, no apprentices to worry about either. It was quite a luxury that few could enjoy.

He strode up to the door and was unsurprised when it opened for him. Undoubted Slughorn had set up plenty of wards to keep him alerted to when someone was coming for a social call. Undoubtedly Slughorn also knew that it was Dumbledore himself.

"Hello Horace." Dumbledore said as he entered the sitting room, watching as his old friend sat in a chair drinking a bit of brandy, looking at an old photo album.

"Hello Albus. I'm really sorry about that mess, but it had to be done. Can you imagine if one of those cauldron's had exploded as one class was leaving and another was entering? It would set off a chain reaction." Slughorn shook his head and closed his book. "I thought I taught Severus much better than that."

"I admit I too did not see such a thing." Dumbledore said as he took a seat nearby. "I'm sure you're aware of why I'm here. I now need a new Potions Professor and a new Head of Slytherin House. You were once both."

"I'm enjoying my retirement Albus. Why would I want to come back to Hogwarts and teach once more?" Slughorn asked. "And don't give me any of that spiel about seeing young minds at work. You and I both know that doesn't work for me."

"One name Horace: Harry Potter." Dumbledore said with a satisfied smile on his face when he noticed Slughorn's attention. "You love being the man behind the great ones. You don't need the spotlight, but you crave the opportunity to make connections, to be the one to say you're the reason such famous people got their start. And to you, Harry Potter is the crème de la crème. He would be the center piece of your collection of students."

Dumbledore was not afraid of using Harry's fame to get Slughorn to agree to teach, at least until someone else came along. And he was right; Lily Evans had been the last center piece for Slughorn. She had been brilliant to such an extreme. However, she was also extremely friendly with just about everyone. Even the Slytherins had difficulty hating her because she attempted to learn the rules, the customs. It had been scary really.

"Ah, already pandering to my addiction Albus? You are a truly cunning foe. But who does Mr. Potter act more like? His father who I had no interest in? Or his mother?" Slughorn asked.

"Neither." Dumbledore said firmly. It was safe to say, in his mind at least, that Harry Potter was his own man. Yes, there was that hunger for knowledge that Lily had, but the fact of the matter was Harry didn't flaunt his knowledge either. If there had been one short coming to Lily, it would have been her need to flaunt her knowledge. However, in later years it was quickly tempered into something more.

"Come now Albus, you'll have to do better than that to get me to come." Slughorn said, sipping some of his brandy. "I admit, you have good leverage, but retirement is a big rock to pry off of me." He said. "Perhaps you should try it."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "No, I will enjoy being Headmaster until I no longer can. I quite enjoy seeing the faces of students learning." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with mirth as he looked to Slughorn. "Let us be honest Horace. You're already packed, ready to go back to Hogwarts. So many Heirs to so many Noble families in their First Year. It is a temptation you cannot resist. Abbot, Bones, Crabbe, Greengrass, Goyle, Li, Longbottom, Malfoy, MacDougal, Nott, Parkinson, Patil, Potter, Smith. You cannot resist that sort of temptation; you and I both know it."

Slughorn began to chuckle, almost bouncing in his seat. "Oh ho… Albus you _do _know me after all. I want a raise and I want Professor Merryweather's old office. And I want Professor Odgen's old quarters. They were most spacious." He said.

"All acceptable conditions Horace." Dumbledore said and stood up, offering his hand.

Slughorn stood up and shook Dumbledore's hand. "I will gather my things, if you would send a House Elf by to pick them up?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "I will introduce you tonight."

-_Scene Break-_

It was dinner time and Dumbledore tapped his goblet with his spoon while standing up. "I would like your attention please." He said loudly. "Professor Snape is no longer with us. After finding out the danger he had put his students in, he has stepped down from his posts and will no longer be teaching at Hogwarts. Let us hope he finds safety and good luck in his future endeavors." Dumbledore said loudly and clearly.

However, the Great Hall erupted into applause and cheering with the exception of the majority of the Slytherin students. The Weasley Twins suddenly both stood up with a foot on the table, holding a banner on either side that exclaimed 'Potter the Hero!' Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs nudged the dark haired boy, and whistles were heard.

Dumbledore raised his wand and let it give off a loud bang. He smiled slightly at their enthusiasm, but he was heartbroken inside that he had not seen such animosity. He was also pleased that Harry wasn't preening or even smiling. He sat their stoically, watching Dumbledore as though he was expecting something else. Of course, Dumbledore wasn't going to speak ill of Snape. He would let those that had enjoyed the man think of him as not a heartless man.

"Do not be alarmed, I have already found a suitable replacement to both posts of Potions Professor and to the Head of Slytherin House. Professor Horace Slughorn has agreed to return to his posts." At this point, the portly man stood up and gave a bit of a wave before sitting back down. "I hope all of you do well under his care and learn a lot more." Dumbledore said before slowly sitting down.

He glanced once more to Harry, watching the boy. Harry had calmly gone back to eating.

Dumbledore wondered what had happened to the boy to turn him into such an individual. Were his relatives that bad to him? He sincerely wished he had the boy's trust so that he could ask. Alas, he did not. Perhaps Flitwick would tell him if he asked.

He could only hope.

End Chapter

A/N: We have a time skip next chapter. I feel it's about time for one.


	8. Chapter 8

Book 1

Chapter 8

Harry had finally started to fall into a well-oiled routine that worked for him. It took until two weeks before Halloween, but he finally had the routine he was looking for. It was finally time to test himself in the one method he had been looking forward to since September the First. It had taken weeks of prep actually, and that was with his request from Gringotts coming in.

The silvery, mist like fluid had gone down rather easy. But then Harry had a splitting headache for the rest of the week. He had learned firsthand how to use a parachute through the eyes of a Goblin. Harry had sent a note, telling Rotgut to send the Goblin an extra thousand galleons for its services. After all, as a creature of the depths, Goblins preferred being surrounded on all sides by rock and stone. For it to have jumped from an airplane, the Goblin must have been utterly terrified and traumatized. Yet, true to its race, for its client and profit, it had done it anyways.

And it hadn't jumped once or twice. It had jumped over a dozen times so Harry had the experience of how to use a parachute and when to use the parachute. For that, Harry was willing to fork over some money.

That Thursday morning, he was up bright and early. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors had a free period in the morning and he was planning on making the most of it. He forwent his usual workout, wanting the strength that was going to be required for what he had planned.

Harry changed from the usual dress uniform into a pair of loose fitting and comfortable workout pants. He made sure that the pants legs were bound so that he didn't step on them or anything. A black t-shirt was all he wore for a top.

Harry headed outside the school, glancing around. He saw some Gryffindors enjoying their free period, running about and playing some games. He knew that the Ravenclaws were holed up either in the tower or the library, studying.

Harry checked the securement of his chute, remembering that the Goblin had also done some BASE jumping so that it knew the various differences between why and when the parachute needed deployed. Harry felt the clips around his thighs and he jumped a bit, feeling the straps around his waist and crisscrossing his chest. He then tightened where it felt loose.

Harry checked the small pouch at his hip and soon dipped his hands into it. He rubbed the chalk on his hands a moment so that he knew there was no moisture that would cause him to slip. He had a plan for how often he'd use the chalk for safety purposes.

He had already determined everything and he breathed out a bit. "I'm down right barmy." Harry said as he looked ahead at his goal. Every single safety precaution was being taken on this climb. Even Dust was out, circling around and watching over his Bonded.

Harry was going to climb Hogwarts.

It was the perfect test to his strength, to his skill at climbing. An old castle like Hogwarts, even with as much magic as there was going into keeping it, offered plenty of hand and footholds. It practically begged to be climbed and Harry was going to climb it. The sheer thrill had been bugging him for weeks. He needed to climb it.

Every weekend, he had sat outside and let Dust examine the surface of the walls, finding the perfect hand holds for Harry. It was going to take more than a fair amount of daring at times, but that was what Harry wanted. He wanted there to be a thrill, he wanted to put his body out there and trust in his instincts and his body.

Nerves fluttered in his stomach. Harry was excited to begin, but his body was naturally afraid. It was going to be glorious.

Harry knew more than a few students had been giving him curious, passing glances as he had been staring down at the wall to one of the towers of Hogwarts. Harry was tracing his path that he was going to climb, remembering the reconnaissance work that Dust had performed.

Harry stretched himself a bit, double checking his shoes being tied. The laces were tucked into the shoes. He inhaled deeply, rotating his neck before exhaling slowly.

He bolted forward.

Harry kicked up the wall a little bit and caught himself on the first hand hold, feeling the way the stone felt on his fingers. He dragged himself up and caught the second one. He swung his body out and caught his leg on one of the torch sconces. Higher and higher he went, pausing at every floor to reapply some chalk to his hands. He caught himself on the ledge of a window at the second floor and pulled himself up, turning to sit on the window sill. More chalk and he quickly began to climb again. He grunted as he made his way up, higher and higher.

This was something so few wizards would even contemplate trying. And that was why Harry was doing it. Having done exercises that demanded trust of the body and the strength it contained, this was the ultimate test. So Harry climbed higher and higher, grunting a bit. At one point, he thought he heard a window open, but he ignored it. He focused solely on the climb.

The towers were the highest point of the school. The ramparts connecting most of the towers were at about a hundred feet, about twenty feet higher than the roof of the school. The towers were an additional twenty feet higher than the ramparts. It was just sound military strategy back then. Hogwarts was a school, yes, but it was built as a fortress, a castle. It was a place to be defended.

The tower Harry scaled was a hundred and twenty feet into the air, several times higher than the highest climb he had ever made. His body ached as he dragged himself up onto the roof of the tower and allowed himself a small reprieve. His hands ached and throbbed and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he breathed heavily.

At a hundred and twenty feet in the air, he felt free. He detested being confined to a cramped space such as the Ravenclaw tower. He spent as much of his time awake in vast rooms. From the Great Hall to the Grand Staircase, even outside. The classrooms were bearable in themselves.

But nothing beat outside, up high where no one could get to him easily. There was freedom and solitude up there. He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face, threatening to split it wide.

Having spent the majority of his younger years, up until Dust had found him, in a cramped boot cupboard. The recent years had helped ease his anxiety, but he still absolutely despised enclosed spaces. Learning how to run, to feel the wind in his face and hair, to climb and escape from everyone, that had been his escape. It had been a means to break free from the crippling anxiety that his claustrophobia had brought him.

But none of his classmates would ever know, except for maybe the other Riders. They just wouldn't understand. He needed absolute freedom. He had even hated riding the train to Hogwarts because of the enclosed feel. Playing the chess had helped.

Riding the Thestral up to the Great Hall had been truly satisfying. It had helped ease his anxieties.

There was nothing that magic could do to help the fact he was absolutely terrified of tightly enclosed spaces.

"Enjoying yourself up here Mr. Potter?" Harry wanted to groan as he heard the voice of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry… wasn't exactly sure how to feel about Dumbledore. On one hand, he felt too much like some grand master manipulator. It came from Dumbledore having his finger in far too many pies. He was Leader of the Present Government, and he was the Headmaster of the Future Government. Probably had been for far longer than Harry realized, yet still Dumbledore had to fight tooth and nail for his progressive policies.

He was trying to keep tradition while still allowing for new concepts and new ideas to flow in, and perhaps it had been set back by the likes of Grindelwald and Voldemort, but Harry just didn't see it. Then again, Harry was willing to admit to himself, Dumbledore could just be a very influential and innocent person. But he doubted it.

Then there was Dumbledore constantly sticking his nose in Harry's business. He could understand the reversal of funds by Gringotts. That had been a school matter. While Harry's Head of House could handle it, Dumbledore showed that there was an ulterior motive when he asked about Harry living with his Aunt and Uncle. Harry's living conditions were not school related.

Then there had been the incident with Snape. Dumbledore could have handled that a lot better than having both opposing sides of the argument in the same room as one another. But telling Harry that he needed to offer a second chance had burned Harry of the old man. He wasn't going to make an enemy of Dumbledore, but he certainly wasn't a friend either.

Harry slowly stood up, completely at ease on the slanted roof. He supposed the safety of a student also fell under school business, and while Harry would argue about his safety, being quite fine by himself actually, he was sure that Dumbledore didn't think so. "How'd you do Headmaster?" Harry was mildly amused by Dumbledore's form on a broom.

"Quite well, thank you Mr. Potter. Now what say we get you down from there?" Dumbledore said quite jovially. He even had a spare broom tagging along, no doubt having enchanted it to do so.

Harry shook his head with a slight smile. "No thank you Headmaster. I'm quite content where I'm at right now."

Dumbledore frowned momentarily. "However did you even get up here Mr. Potter?"

Harry smiled even more broadly. "I climbed." He said before he turned to look at another tower. He judged the distance and the slight climb. It would take some work, including running along the wall of the rampart instead of the walkway.

"Mr. Potter, I must insist that you come with me. It simply isn't safe up here." Dumbledore said, moving forward a bit to try and get the broom by Harry.

"Headmaster, you'll have to catch me." Harry said before he bolted. He slid down the roof and hit the walkway of the rampart in a roll. Once on his feet, he made quick work of stepping up to an archer station and climbing on top of the higher wall beside it.

He sort of did a hopping run along the wall of the rampart, both arms out to his sides for balance. When he got to the next roof, he made quick work of climbing it and up onto the slanted room once more. He chanced a look over his shoulder to see Dumbledore finally regaining his bearings.

Harry dashed up the side of the roof of the tower and looked out over the direction he was looking at. He could hear the brooms coming through the air, with a call of 'Mr. Potter!' from Dumbledore. Taking a deep breath, Harry rushed down the side of the tower and jumped with all his might.

Shortly after the plunge, Harry yanked the cord to the parachute, feeling it jerk his body as it exploded outwards. He glanced up at it, seeing the design on the otherwise white parachute for the first time. Done in black was a crow perched atop a skull with its wings spread wide. The Goblins had really out done themselves.

Harry laughed. He couldn't help himself. He could practically imagine the look on Dumbledore's face when Harry had taken the jump. He slowly drifted his way towards the Black Lake and took a plunge inside. He took a gasp of air before he went under and made quick work of unlatching his parachute from his body before he kicked for the surface.

He swam to the shore and took a moment to catch his breath before he turned his focus on the parachute.

He did this with his clothes every single morning. But he had never attempted something as large as the parachute was and he had never attempted something completely and utterly soaked in water. Still, he had to try.

He held his hand out, reaching out with his magic. He visualized his parachute, visualization was key to what he was attempting. Ever since he first tapped into magic with Dust, the crow had demanded he practiced it, to remember the feelings behind it.

And so Harry had.

And this was something that required absolute power. Still, Harry turned his hand palm up and began to raise his hand slowly. Slowly from the water of the Black Lake, the parachute began to rise. Harry held his left hand steady, keeping the parachute afloat. Usually he could do what he was attempting with a single hand, but the draw on his magic was demanding he split his focus between both hands.

He reached out with his right hand, like he was grasping some invisible rope and began to pull. The parachute began to come closer and when it was in the shallows of the lake, Harry let it drop with a loud splash. He panted a moment as he waded into the water to grab it.

He then dragged it ashore, falling to his knees and breathing heavily. He was a little surprised to hear a bunch of cheering and he was dragged to his feet by the two Weasley Twins.

"Harry Potter ladies and gentlemen!" The one on his left said.

"With bigger balls than the entirety of Gryffindor combined!" the one on his right said.

"And more Ambition than any Slytherin!" The one on his left said

"With the intelligence of all the Ravenclaws to pull it off!"

"Harry Potter!" Harry yanked his arms free and stood straight and stiffly at the angry yell of his Head of House. Flitwick marched up with his wand out and his face quite red. "I do not know what _possessed_ you Mr. Potter to _climb_ Hogwarts itself, but I should be seeing you expelled for that little stunt! Jumping off of Hogwarts is the icing on the cake as far as I am concerned!" Flitwick said, his eyes glaring angrily up at Harry.

"I don't think that will be necessary Fillius, so long as it does not happen again.' Dumbledore said, coming up through the crowd.

"Never in my very long life, Mr. Potter, have I seen such reckless stupidity performed. I have seen your father at work, and Mr. and Mr. Weasley behind you, but never have I seen such recklessness, not even from a Gryffindor, nonetheless one of my Ravenclaws. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Flitwick asked, practically ignoring Dumbledore.

Harry took a moment to think. Telling Flitwick that it had been to test himself would very likely get him expelled, regardless of what Dumbledore said. However, he would be sooner be expelled or die if he said he was looking for a place to relax, to feel safe in front of what was looking like the entire student body and most of the staff. "No Sir." Harry said firmly and strongly. He wouldn't look weak either.

Flitwick regarded Harry for a while, his eyes quite angry. "Mr. Potter, you will have detention with me every Saturday from now until the Holiday Break from just after Breakfast until Dinner. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes Sir." Harry said. It could be far worse, Harry knew that much. And he would man up his punishment fully.

"Now Fillius, surely taking away House Points and a few detentions would suffice." Dumbledore said, about to change the punishment.

"My punishment will stand Albus. Mr. Potter has made it clear to me that he has no desire to earn House Points and as such is also unaffected by the loss of them." Flitwick said. "To him they show a dated system that does not work any longer and only divides the Houses. He has personally written a twenty four inch essay on his beliefs and I will respect those beliefs. He will be serving detention with me at the times I have stated."

Harry bent down and gathered his parachute. "If you'll excuse me Professors." Harry said. "I do believe I have to go get changed before class." He then made his way past them both, carrying the parachute in his arms. It was sopping wet, just as he was.

"And make sure you head to Madam Pomfrey before class!" Flitwick called after the dark haired boy.

Harry paused at the entry way, noticing Filch. "I will clean it up later." He told the caretaker. "Before dinner, but after classes." He would need the time to mop up from the entry way to Ravenclaw tower.

Filch just nodded his head, watching unblinkingly as Harry made his way up the stairs.

Harry got a shower and changed into his school robes. He tossed the parachute into one of the many hampers by itself with a note for the House Elves on the care for it. He didn't want them to ruin it trying to wash it or anything, but he also needed to get the lake water out of it.

Harry went to his bed and strapped his wand against his forearm doing the same with his knife on the left forearm. He hadn't yet decided what to do about the Harvester yet. He didn't want to take it around the school and have someone notice it.

Dust came in at that moment and landed on his shoulder. He stroked Dust's beak a bit. He seriously doubted anyone in the entire school would believe him for a minute if he said that he had done his entire climb without the use of magic.

Still, if it kept others from attempting it in some foolish and stupid attempt that could very well get them killed, he would say that he had performed some magic to allow him to do what he did. He would also be intentionally vague about it. He would bend the truth to the point of it breaking, but he wasn't going to let some other insecure first year try to climb.

Harry headed to the hospital wing.

As soon as he entered, he was waylaid by the school nurse, pointing firmly to the bed that he had sat on when he first arrived. He held his hands up and made his way over. He knew better than to argue with the woman when it was very clear she was upset.

"Climbing the school!" she said quite loudly. "Out of your mind, completely barmy!" Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Do you know how many people you have scared with your stunt? And then jumping off of Hogwarts in front of the Headmaster no less!" She came over to him. "Hands Mr. Potter." She said.

Harry up turned his hands, showing them. He knew the skin was torn his fingertips had bled even. It had stung putting the chalk on his hand from about sixty feet on up. He heard Madam Pomfrey tsk slightly before she set to work.

His hands were dunked in essence of Murtlap once more, cleaning up the wounds. "And what do you have to say for yourself young man? What on earth possessed you to climb up the tower on the outside of Hogwarts?!" she said. She began more diagnostic spells on Harry.

Harry bowed his head a little bit. He bit his tongue, desperately thinking a little bit. "Healer's oath of secrecy?" he asked softly.

Madam Pomfrey paused a moment, a lot of her anger being taken out of her by that quiet statement. Like he was desperate to tell someone something that had stayed bottled up for so long. She withdrew her wand and secured a silencing spell around them. "No one will hear it from me Mr. Potter." She said.

Harry began to rub his hands in the essence of Murtlap, working it in and peeling some of the tore skin off. "I started running and climbing the way I do as a means of escape. A reminder to myself that I can trust myself. Climbing Hogwarts like that, it had been exhilarating, freeing, it solidified my beliefs that I can trust myself, that what's wrong with me isn't because of what I've done." He said. "So yes, it was testing my abilities. It was the ultimate test that I need to do."

Harry shifted his head up to look at Madam Pomfrey. "I'm claustrophobic. I'm utterly terrified of being in enclosed spaces, where I can't spread my arms out wide and touch nothing but air. I'm terrified of being stuck in some dark cramped space. But I turn my fear into something else. I turn it into anger, into cold aloofness. The train ride here? I utterly loathed it. Playing chess with Mr. Weasley had helped, as with riding the Thestral up to the school. But then in the Great Hall, with people pressing in around me." Harry shook his head.

"Climbing up… that had been the ultimate freedom. The wind in my hair, the sun on my face, skies open as far as the eyes can see. Even now, I get anxious around cramped spaces. I'll go in, but…" Harry could tell he was shaking; talking about the cramped darkness always reminded him of the boot cupboard.

Back when he was weaker. Back when he was small.

"Gringotts never helped. Goblins are surrounded by earth, stone, and darkness at all times. I try to get most of my monetary needs taken care all at once so I'm not down in the tunnels more than necessary. But… even still…" Harry said softly.

Madam Pomfrey looked to Harry sadly and nodded softly. "I understand Mr. P- Harry." She said, using his first name in a gentle tone. "If you're ever feeling the anxiety, I want you to leave where you're feeling it. I promise I'll keep it secret, but you need to let someone else know as well. The more people helping you through this, the better you will eventually be." She said.

Harry nodded his head slowly. "I'll try." He said. That was all he could promise.

-_Scene Break-_

As it turned out, his stunt had also drawn on his magic. It caused his magic to be much weaker until the weekend when he had time to rest and relax, giving it back. When he finished with breakfast, he stood up and began to walk towards the Charms Classroom where he would have his detention.

Oddly enough, the Weasley Twins had stood and saluted him as he walked off. Like they were never going to see him again after a detention with Flitwick.

Harry wanted to point out that Flitwick wouldn't be that kind; that Harry still had about another six detentions with the squat professor. He didn't, not wanting to give the Twins even more reason to cause a scene. They gave him a relatively wide berth, either not wanting to draw his ire for some incomprehensible reason, or they were worried that their tricks wouldn't work.

Either way worked for Harry.

Harry went to the Charms classroom and entered, immediately noting that it was vastly different. It was more spacious and open; Harry was not able to see the ceiling. There was also a thick mist making it difficult to see.

Dust cawed and instincts screamed out. Harry dove to the side just as a spell impacted against the wall. His knife and his wand were out in both hands and he was cursing himself, berating himself for not carrying the Harvester around. But then again, he never thought he would be attacked.

Especially not by a diminutive Charms Professor.

Harry rolled from behind his cover, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Flitwick had charmed the classroom to look like a cave with thick mist and several irregular rock formations that would provide cover. He slung his knife out in the direction that the spell had come from, only to have to dodge out of the way of more spells.

Harry's heart was racing as Dust took to the air. Harry closed his eyes briefly, keeping his other senses open as he looked through Dust's eyes, trying to use the crow's superior vision. Unfortunately he still wasn't able to see anything.

"Tsk, tsk Mr. Potter. I would have thought you'd know better than to throw your only means of Defense right now." Flitwick said, his voice seemingly coming from everywhere at once as the rock walls let the voice bounce around.

Harry grabbed a pebble from the ground and threw it at a random direction, listening to it bounce before seeing the spell fire slam into the area. Harry retaliated with a spell of his own. There wasn't much he could do, except throw sparks at his Charms Professor. But Harry advanced after his spell work, dodging to the side of more spells being blasted around him.

He breathed a bit heavier, his eyes focused and sharp. Sweat poured off his face from the movement already. His heart hammered in his chest as he thought about what he could do. He had already thrown his knife at his Charms Professor, which admittedly had not been a good idea.

Harry's only option was to get closer and get physical with Flitwick. Again, that wasn't a particularly great idea. He had no idea of knowing precisely where Flitwick was, despite the spells coming from the same area.

Harry also didn't want to ask the obvious question of why Flitwick was doing this. The darkness seemed to get thicker with the mist and Harry felt himself getting angry at the acknowledgement of his fear. He threw up his Deathly Aura as much as he could without changing, letting the cold seep through his body.

Dust had said that Harry wasn't ready for some of the stronger powers of the Pale Rider. There was little doubt in his mind that Dust was right on those matters, but Harry was quite outmatched already and he had lost the door in the process.

So Harry began to condense his powers to his left hand. Usually he would have to condense the water in the air, but the thick mist helped with this. It swirled a bit as the powers of Death coursed through him, drawing deep from his magical core. Dust cawed warningly overhead, but it wasn't telling Harry to stop.

A curved blade of ice began to form in Harry's hand and he gripped the cold substance before flipping over his cover. He raced in, throwing out a few more spells to light his path. He dodged out of the way of several more spells until he was hit with a leg locker jinx. He rolled forward, slamming into some rocks with a painful groan. He glared down at his ankles before he rolled up, propping himself up on the cover.

Condensed lances of ice formed before launching themselves at the general direction Flitwick was casting from. Harry could feel his anger forcing his Deathly Aura even higher, threatening to turn him into the ghastly visage of the Pale Rider. He even felt blood begin to drip from his nose from both nostrils as his magic was pressed too far.

A spell slammed into him and darkness overtook him.

Harry jerked awake, gasping and rising up. He felt a surprisingly strong hand on his chest and words being spoken. His mind was taking a moment to clear up so that he could understand what was being said. "Relax Harry, easy."

Harry turned to see Flitwick who had a look of worry on his face. Harry touched his chest gently. His chest felt tight and throbbed with some pain. Harry felt two familiar weights on his arms and he twisted his wrists to see the knife and the wand sheathed. "What- What happened?"

Flitwick helped Harry take a drink from some water before he helped Harry move to a chair. Flitwick then took a seat across from Harry, once more in the Charm Professor's office. "What happened…" Flitwick began. "I had gotten a little over zealous, and I admit that perhaps I did not anticipate your own actions. Take a moment to remember everything." Flitwick said.

Clarity eventually slammed into Harry and he could feel his anger begin to boil. Dust cawed from the side before resting on Harry's shoulders. "You attacked me." Harry said simply.

Flitwick nodded. "That is certainly one way of looking at it. And I do not blame you for thinking that way." Flitwick said as he prepared some tea. "I wanted to teach you the first lesson any Duelist learns. An attack can come at any time, from anywhere, from anyone. It helps focus your thoughts, hone your reflexes on the Dueling platform. Again, I admit I got overzealous and had not anticipated your reaction."

Harry watched Flitwick. The man seemed to show genuine remorse over what had happened. "Why?" Harry asked. 'Why teach me anything about dueling? Especially as a detention nonetheless."

Flitwick smiled a bit. "I keep hoping to find a student that will take my techniques, take them and learn from them. I wish for an apprentice. And seeing you scale Hogwarts, it showed a grit and determination that I have never seen anyone else have. It showed athleticism that is required of a Duelist that a Quidditch player just does not have. It… it ignited something inside of me. So yes, I gave you detentions for your actions. I was genuinely angry and terrified of what you did. I believe a great many of us teachers who found out were. But the detentions were a ruse to have you where I could train you to Duel. So I started the first lesson with perhaps the worst possible lesson. But I swear to you that I did not mean for your reaction to be like that. I would have picked something else if you had a reaction like that"

Harry leaned back a bit and rubbed his face, trying to understand what the diminutive Charms teacher was saying. He wanted an Apprentice. That was something that Harry could respect. Dumbledore would probably cancel such detentions if he understood that Harry was enjoying them. And Flitwick wanted to make a point and would likely work Harry to the bone. But that didn't stop Harry from having had issues.

Harry reacted violently to being attacked. He reacted violently to being scared, to feeling small once more.

He accepted the cup of tea and added some sugar to it. He took a long drink from it, closing his eyes. "I'm claustrophobic." Harry explained after a moment. "Part of the reason I refuse to go back to my aunt and uncle is that when I was younger, up until I was eight, they would throw me into a boot cupboard under the stairs." Harry had been explaining this and thinking about it far more than he would desire. "From time to time, my uncle would come home drunk. My aunt would be upstairs, asleep. He would lumber in and drag me out of the darkness and begin to beat me with his belt. 'Beat the freakishness out' he would say." Harry swallowed a bit and set the tea down, noticing it was shaking.

"Darkness does not terrify me. Not so long as Dust is with me. Dust can see. But the cover you had provided, the walls pressing in, the mist clinging to everything… It caused my claustrophobia to flare up." He held his hand, squeezing it slightly to try and stop the shaking. "After Dust found me, I swore to myself that I would never be weak again. I turn my fear into anger. I already have an Aura and I can do rudimentary things with ice when my Aura is up. My anger is cold, biting like frost instead of a burning inferno."

If it was cold enough, nothing could stop the cold. Just like Death. War's fury would be a blazing inferno. They were meant to balance one another. But Harry hadn't found War yet.

Flitwick nodded. "Yes, and I suppose you used far too much power creating those lances of ice. Your nose was bleeding quite badly. Your core got taxed, but thankfully nothing that rest and some food won't fix. We're done with the physical for today, so for the rest of today I wish to talk to you more about the theory and philosophy, if you're still up for it."

Harry looked to Flitwick before he nodded. Learning to duel would only benefit him in the long run.

"Excellent." Flitwick said. "And I know some of what I talk about, or ask, will often not make sense in the beginning. But please, just trust me when I say that in time you will learn." Flitwick said. He held up his wand. "I, Fillius Arman Flitwick, hereby swear upon my Magic that anything Harry James Potter tells me in my office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry shall be kept a secret without his explicit permission to the contrary." Flitwick said. His magic took a red glow around him before it settled, holding the oath.

Harry blinked a moment, staring at the diminutive Charms Professor. He had not excepted a Wizard's oath to be given to him over his secrets. He wondered briefly what Flitwick would ask him.

"I do not expect you to understand my thoughts on the matter to begin with Harry, but I want you to at least answer me fully and honestly. Why do you keep your classmates at arms' reach still?" Flitwick asked, setting his wand down and leaning in slightly. "What makes you so hesitant to let down your walls?"

Harry frowned a moment. "You've noticed?" he asked.

"Harry, you have walls like a fortress around your heart. I don't think anyone hasn't noticed." Flitwick said.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes, thinking on how much to tell the small professor. "I… have difficulty connecting with the other students." He said before opening his eyes. "I've seen the world's cruelty already at a very young age. I was forced to grow up much faster than most others. I don't care for Quidditch; the sport just doesn't do anything for me."

Harry thought some more. "When I came to Hogwarts, so much potential was open for me. I wanted to learn, I had this aching need to learn. But it wasn't the usual need of Ravenclaw students to learn. I didn't care how much I learned, but I needed to understand it, to understand magic's various intrigues."

Harry stood up at this point, pacing a little bit and running his hands through his hair as his frustrations came forward. "Ravenclaw students, and even Ms. Granger, have this need to learn as much as possible but not the intricacies behind it. They shun various branches of magic because they don't wish to understand it."

Harry turned to look at Flitwick. "I want to know all forms of magic. Alchemy, Conjuration, Transfiguration, Runes, Divination, Herbology, Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, Hexes, Curses, Jinxes, Death Magic, Life Magic, ice Magic, Fire Magic, Light Magic, Dark Magic, and Grey Magic. I want to know it all; I wish to understand it all. Magic fascinates me, yet because of some fools we brand certain types of magic as 'Bad.'" Harry said.

He took his seat once more. "Think Professor. At the time of the Founding of Hogwarts, no one would bat an eye if Gryffindor had used Battle Magic to rip open a cavern to swallow up his enemies. No one would bat an eye if Hufflepuff had cast a Curse that would cause the flesh of her enemies to melt off. No one would bat an eye if Ravenclaw raised the corpses of her fallen soldiers to fight one again and again and again. No one would bat an eye if Slytherin sacrificed a volunteer, or a troll, or something of the like to charge the wards of Hogwarts. I'd be willing to bet there are at least four Wards around Hogwarts that are inactive because they haven't been charged with a Death."

Harry was on his feet once more. "Yet if I bring these thoughts to someone, anyone, I would be labeled mad or worse as Dark. I believe Necromancy to be a form of Magic that should be delved into. But the likes of Voldemort and Grindelwald have made these sorts of arts ugly, twisted things. I say Necromancy and people think about murdering another human or sentient being. I say Necromancy and I think about raising the dead with an animal like a chicken or goat."

Flitwick watched and listened as Harry spoke about something he was obviously passionate about. In the beginning when Harry had mentioned Death Magic, Flitwick had almost been terrified of Harry going Dark. Yet Flitwick listened. He listened as Harry spoke, listened as he said what was obviously on his mind for quite some time.

And Flitwick was most curious at what Harry was suggesting. "So what do you make of Sentient Sacrifice?" he asked. He needed to know if there was Darkness threatening to consume his young Ravenclaw.

"Sentient Sacrifice." Harry took his seat again and took a drink of his tea. "If it's a willing sacrifice, I do not think that it is wrong. But it has to be willing. Snuffing the life of a sentient like a goblin, a centaur, a House Elf, anything capable of such thoughts, culture, without it being willing takes this Magic and turns it into something pure evil. It's a difficult line to draw.

"Murder has long since been defined as killing someone. I think Murder should be redefined as killing someone against their will. Murder will destroy the soul. Murder will rip it to shreds. A willing sacrifice cannot be coerced into the action. Even sacrificing a non-sentient like a cow, a goat, or a chicken, it depends on what's going to be done with it once you are done. If you're going to abandon it once it's dead, then it's just wasteful." Harry shook his head. "It's these thoughts that I know I would have difficulty connecting with others."

Flitwick leaned back in his chair. "Swear to me Harry; swear to me that you will never kill a sentient outside of Self-defense. Please, swear that to me so that this old man can sleep at night."

Harry took his wand out, rolling it between his fingers. "I can't." Harry said and set his wand down on the desk, looking to Flitwick whose eyes had gone wide. "How will magic define a sentient? If I kill a cow, would that be a sentient? If I kill a troll, would that be a sentient?" Harry shook his head. "It is too vague of an oath to make."

Not to mention, would his own duties as Death interfere? He really didn't want to know if they would or not.

Flitwick looked to his wand. He felt a tremor run through him, terrified at the idea of a favorite student going so Dark as to kill another human being. But he could not argue what Harry had said. How would Magic itself define sentience? Flitwick took a deep breath, trying to think of this with more of a Goblin standpoint. "Harry," Flitwick said after a while. "I will trust you have enough judgment on this. I shouldn't, and to be honest I am terrified of you going Dark. But you seem to have a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong. Please don't prove me wrong."

Harry nodded softly, understanding what Flitwick was saying. "Yes Sir." He said.

"We got off track." Flitwick said. Horrendously off track from what he was originally going through. "But I want you to let people in. I want you to try. If for nothing else but that they can keep you from the Darkness, that Black Darkness where Right and Wrong are just words. I want you to call your peers by their first names."

Harry nodded after a moment. "I… Yes Sir." Harry wasn't going to say he would try. There was either do, or do not. And for Flitwick's trust in Harry's desires of magical learning, he would do for the stout Professor.

Chapter End

A/N: Character development!


	9. Chapter 9

Book 1

Chapter 9

Harry sat in the Charms Classroom with his eyes closed, listening to Professor Flitwick lecture about the levitation spell, _Wingardium Leviosa_. He was already cranky. He had been the entire morning and would likely be the entire day. Most of the students were able to pick up on it as well.

Halloween. The Veil between the World of the Living and the World of the Dead was at its thinnest that night. In later years, he would be charged with hunting down the souls of those who had escaped from the World of the Dead. He could feel it; he could feel the Veil thinning. Even Dust had no answer for why the event occurred.

Halloween. The day everything had been viciously taken from him as a child. And yet people were already planning to celebrate the day as the day Voldemort had been destroyed. Yet no one could speak his name. It was disgusting to Harry. There was nothing he despised more than the fact that no one seemed to remember the sacrifices and losses of those that had died.

Though, Harry was pleased to note, a few people could be seen in a sort of melancholy, the likes of which he was feeling. Likely because they too had lost a lot. He had even seen a few fake smiles, trying to be strong for their friends that partied and celebrated.

Halloween was meant to be a somber event. There was no cheer to be found in it. Even Necromancers refused to try to raise the dead on Halloween. There were things beyond the Veil that even they dared not risk summoning. And with the weakened Veil, they were indeed risking summoning something.

Harry would be out there, holding the line, but Dust said he wasn't ready yet. He couldn't properly train his powers and abilities without alerting everyone in the castle to what he was doing. He really didn't want to explain to everyone what he was.

The Goblins were duty bound to keep his secret. The Sorting Hat was enchanted to keep his secrets. Trelawney, as he found the Seer's name to be, had been so deep into a trance she wouldn't remember who he was. Thus far his secret was safe.

Another year was going by and it still felt like he wasn't able to do anything. It truly pissed Harry off something awfully. Worse yet was all the beginner work Harry was doing. He knew his study into magic would be a long and tedious journey in and of itself. But it Harry was still in that impatient stage of youth.

Harry heard the calls and sounds of people attempting the spell. Still, he kept his eyes perfectly closed in thought. He directed his thoughts towards the feather before him, the first of many things they would be attempting to levitate.

Harry had been levitating things since he was eight years old though on a consistent basis. He could float the feather without his wand. Still, knowing the wand techniques behind it would help.

Harry reached out with his left hand and caught Ron's wrist, ceasing his movements. Harry opened his eyes and shook his head at the redhead slowly. Ron had been swinging his wand at the feather like he expected it to float on the first try, even with his rather atrocious enunciation of the incantation.

Harry had taken Flitwick's advice to heart. He started to call people he was more familiar with, such as his fellow Ravenclaws and a few members of the other Houses that he spoke with often enough, by their first name. Sometimes he would slip into old habits and call them by their title and their last name, but at least Harry was making an attempt.

Unfortunately, it made Ron want to cling to Harry during every class period, despite Harry making a very real attempt to sit beside someone different during each and every class period. It wasn't that he wanted to make friends with everyone; he wanted a firm grasp on the personality of each of them.

Ron also had this incessant desire to talk about Quidditch or play chess despite Harry's repeated comments that he was too busy to do such as often as Ron wanted to.

More than once Harry almost called him Mr. Weasley to get him to back off, but Flitwick talked to Harry almost daily, wanting to know how Harry's progress on the front of making friends was. Harry still wasn't sure behind the use to the exercise, but Harry would try. Flitwick seemed to know what he was talking about.

Harry brought his thoughts to the present however. At present, he had to help Ron with his atrocious spell work. "Ron," Harry began carefully. He needed to choose his words carefully because he knew Ron had insecurities because of his five older brothers. "Magic in itself is a very volatile energy." Harry said. "And as such, we need to take precautions so that we don't do anything that would hurt ourselves, or the others around us."

Ron blinked a moment. "But it's such a basic spell."

Harry shook his head with a small chuckle. '_Even the basics can kill.'_ He thought to himself. But it would be best not to mention that to Ron. "And you are unknowingly changing the spell. Lock your shoulder and your elbow. Now, swish, and flick." Harry said.

Ron sighed slightly and did the same movements he had done before but Harry clamped his hand down on Ron's wrist again. "Now what?" Ron snapped.

Harry drew his wand and held it up. "Swish." Harry rolled his wrist. "Flick." He made the barest of moments with his wrist forward. "What you are doing looks more like a swish," he rolled his wrist for the swish. "And a slash." Harry gave a swift downwards swipe of his wand. "Slashes are uncommon in Charm work, Ron. Gentle, precise, subtle. Try again and take your time to make it right. There is no need to rush. Don't put any magic behind it, just perform the movements." Harry said.

Ron sighed again but he did as Harry instructed. Once more, he did the swish correctly, that was the fairly easy part. It took a few tries but eventually he got the flick to where Harry nodded. "Anything else?" Ron asked, paying attention now.

"Enunciation. _Wingardium Leviosa_. By pronouncing it as _Leviosar_, you're changing the spell. Combine that change with your wand movements, and you're doing something dangerous. Changing a spell is dangerous in that you have no idea what the outcome will be. A fair amount of the time, it will be nothing. But, that won't always be the case and you need to plan accordingly for it." Harry explained. "So take it slow, enunciate the words syllable by syllable."

Harry watched as Ron took a moment saying it slow, syllable by syllable. Harry wasn't trying to be a teacher, but he wanted to emphasize that it took some forethought. Harry continued when he felt Ron had gotten it well enough. "Now, here's the tricky part. You must command and guide your magic. Don't force it. Visualize the feather floating. Give it restrictions. It can only float so high, go so low, go left or right, back and forth so far. Then let your magic do the rest."

Ron closed his eyes briefly, trying to get the visualization required.

"And now you put intent behind it. You will the feather to float. Combine it all together." Harry said and gave a sharp swish and flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa." _He commanded firmly, getting his feather to float on the first try with his wand. He directed it with his wand; making it perform summersaults, spin around in circles

"Well done Mr. Potter!" Flitwick said from the front of the class with a clap of his hands. "And excellent explanation of things. Mr. Weasley, feel like giving it a go?"

Ron nodded a bit shakily. Harry thought he looked a little green around the gills so he placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Breathe, relax, and take your time Ron." Harry said.

Ron nodded a bit more firmly and the shaking of his hand eased up a bit. Harry was unsure how someone with such anxiety problems was in Gryffindor, but he wasn't the Sorting Hat so he might never know. Perhaps there was more to Ron. Ron took it slowly, taking a moment. "_Wingardium Leviosa."_ Ron finally incanted.

The feather rose up off the desk, following Ron's wand to a certain height. Ron's eyes widened for a moment before Flitwick's awarding him of ten points to Gryffindor caused his concentration to break and the feather to fall back to the desk.

"Excellent work Mr. Weasley. Just remember to keep practicing and take your time with things and you'll be fine." Flitwick said before continuing to move about the class to see if others needed help with anything.

Ron turned to Harry, his eyes wide. "How did you get it so quickly?" Ron asked. "I mean you usually always get the spells done on the first try, but this one seemed even faster than normal."

Harry thought on how best to answer the question. So far, his wandless magic went unquestioned really. He was up far before the other Ravenclaws in his dorm, so they never saw him manipulate his clothes out of his trunk and to his bed. The current rumors running about when he did the levitation and summoning of his parachute was that there was a summoning charm placed on it.

Blurting out that he could do some basic wandless magic seemed stupid. He absent mindedly reached up and stroked Dust's beak a little bit. A moment of inspiration hit him. "Dust." Harry said, turning to Ron. "Dust is my familiar. He has been around for a very long time. While he doesn't teach me just any spell, Dust is quite in tune with spells that have to do with flying, levitating, anything that has something to do with the air." Harry smiled softly. "So, Dust here helped me get the general concept behind the spell." Harry said.

Harry admitted it sounded a bit weak of an excuse. But the way Dust cawed and puffed up his chest like he was proud helped seal it in Harry's mind. Ron nodded his acceptance and turned back to practicing, trying to get the wand movements down faster and crisper, his enunciation clearer and faster.

Harry sat back in his seat a little bit, petting Dust along his back.

A chill ran down his spine and he frowned. He really, really hated Halloween.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry found himself on the top of the tallest tower at Hogwarts once classes were over for the day. He had made a brief stop at Ravenclaw tower, which he could see in the distance. He had gathered his parachute and the Harvester which he kept in Scythe form for the time being.

If he got angry, it would be difficult to explain away. He found that when he got angry, the Harvester reacted and its eyes would start glowing the way his did. It would also let off an eerie rattling noise. But for the time being, it was easy to explain. He was in costume.

The black cloak and the dark hood with the scythe just made things easy to determine what he was being for Halloween, even though that wasn't the reason dressed up for. In truth, he had looked for a reason to carry around the Harvester. He couldn't shake the bad feeling away from him and in truth, it was only growing.

He lay back on the tower with a soft sigh. He had watched as students got all excited, some of them even dressing up in costume. It was… cute in a way. But Harry wasn't like the rest of them for his reason to dress up. He had dressed up for practical purposes.

First, his safety was his top priority. The Harvester practically ensured this. But he didn't want his weapon to be confiscated either. Flitwick might commend him on being prepared and armed, but he doubted the rest of the staff would be. It was easier to explain the scythe away as a prop for his costume.

Harry sighed a bit and began to watch as Dust flew around. He didn't want to be melancholy around everyone, not when they had obviously been looking forward to the Halloween celebration for some time. But to Harry, it was just another time of mourning. Mourning he couldn't properly do because he had no idea where his parents were lain to rest.

Perhaps if he could go and visit them, he would be able to let them go a bit easier. But the fact of the matter was that he could not let them go. He didn't know if their souls passed on peacefully or if they were still waiting to be taken across. He knew people would say that they were in a better place, but being the Pale Rider he knew otherwise.

There was a better place for the Dead, yes. But the fact of the matter was that not all souls got to go to the better place. Some went on to be in a horrible place, judged for all time for their crimes. And some unlucky souls… some just were unable to pass over. These souls didn't always manifest as Ghosts for the Pale Rider to come along and release from their torment. Sometimes, these souls ended up just stuck. After too long, these stuck souls would become a Shade.

A Shade lived on, in a sense, in a sort of Shadow World according to Dust. They could see the people around them, and the world for that matter. But they could not interact with it. They didn't even know when someone else was another Shade. Worse, they knew hunger, they knew thirst, and they knew exhaustion yet could not succumb to any of these. They could not eat, they could not sleep, and they could not drink.

Worse yet, unlike a Ghost, the Pale Rider could do nothing for them. Death offered no reprieve to their torment. The Shade had to be helped by a Lich. A Necromancer that had transcended their limits and become something even more powerful in their death. A Lich could bring them back from Shadedom and allow the Pale Rider to free their souls. But many Necromancers, in their efforts to transcend Death and live for eternity, damned themselves and thus damned Shades. Most Necromancers that became a Lich had a Kill on Sight sort of order for any of the Horsemen.

It was like a basic need to destroy them rose up in the Horsemen. They went against the natural order.

It was another reason Harry desperately wanted to find the budding Necromancer before they went too far into their Arts. One of the rituals to become a Lich, the one that was probably most known to Necromancers, was to sacrifice the life of a child ripped from the womb. It was a grisly crime.

Dust had once explained to Harry that the Horsemen were not inherently Good or Evil. They were Balance. For there to be life born, there must be Death to be had. For there to be peace, there must be War. For there to be a bountiful harvest, there must be Famine. For there to be healthy lives, there must Plague and Pestilence.

It was perhaps a cruel reality, but it was the reality nonetheless about what was needed to be done. Perhaps the cruelest fact was that mere children were expected to take up the roles of these forces.

With a sigh, Harry slowly stood up and allowed his back to pop. He then made his way back inside. Maybe he could get down to the kitchens to get some food.

-_Scene Break-_

Dumbledore looked over the assembled students eating dinner. He saw many of the older students sitting with their dates for the night, a Ball taking place at the recommendation of Slughorn for the evening of Halloween. It pleased Dumbledore to see so many young vibrant souls mingling and talking, celebrating the day's events.

His gaze swept over the tables slowly before pausing. He glanced up the length of the Ravenclaw table, and then back down once more and frowned slightly. There was a particular Ravenclaw missing. He wondered where they could be. "Fillius, where is Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, looking once more to the blue and bronze table.

Flitwick paused on his mutton before he wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Mr. Potter has declined to participate in the festivities Albus. I don't think I need to remind you of who was lost this fateful day ten years ago. Mr. Potter does not want to bring his own misery down on all those in attendance, something that we should be commending him for. So as for where he is, I do not know. Nor will I force him to attend something that would, undoubtedly, bring him a great deal of pain." Flitwick then went right back to his mutton.

Dumbledore looked hurt, sad, and thoughtful. He had not forgotten about Lily and James Potter's sacrifice. However, he didn't want Harry to wallow in his own misery because of the loss of his parents. Perhaps the next year Harry would be willing to attend. Dumbledore went back to his own pork chops, thinking a bit. He wanted to meet and talk with Harry a bit more, perhaps a friendlier location would be more beneficial.

Asking Harry up to his office was likely to put Harry on guard, so Dumbledore hoped to perhaps talk with him in a hallway or something. It hurt something awful having the son of a man, which Dumbledore would like to call friend, being quite guarded around him. Dumbledore had enjoyed many of James' more innocent pranks.

Plus, Dumbledore was utterly fascinated by the parachute Harry had used when jumping off of Hogwarts. He had been utterly terrified when Harry had done it, but fascinated nonetheless. He never thought of something like that. He had no idea that the Muggles had developed something like that. Perhaps he could speak with Harry about demonstrating the purposes of it at a Wizengamot meeting, help incorporate it somehow.

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall were flung open with Quirrel rushing in. "Troll! In the Dungeon! Troll, in the Dungeon!" He paused in the middle of the students, pale and wide eyed. "Thought you should know." He then went lifeless, his body going limp as he passed out.

Dumbledore was on his feet, his mind racing. He desperately began to think. The students were screaming and panicking so he raised his wand and had it give off a loud bang. "Silence!" he called out. "Students will stay here in the Great Hall, Fillius I want you to stay here with Horace, keep the students safe. Poppy, remain here as well and attempt to wake up Quirinus. Then have him meet up with the rest of the Staff in the Dungeons."

Dumbledore began to move quickly, his wand in hand. Many of the others following him out of the Great Hall. He knew, most of all, that he could trust McGonagall at his back. She would be able to help take on a Troll. The others, like Sinistra and Vector, he wasn't entirely sure about. But he would see if they had enough power to help corral and take down a troll.

The Great Hall was probably the best defensive position in the castle if a Troll was on the loose.

-_Scene Break, Start of the Feast-_

Harry checked the time as he started his way down towards the ground floor to try and find the Kitchens. The Feast had probably just started. That was fine. He'd nip down to the kitchens for a sandwich, and then head back to Ravenclaw tower to retire early. Hopefully he could completely sleep through whatever was the problem with that night.

He wanted whatever bad feeling he had to blow completely over so that he didn't have to worry about it at all. He was already paranoid enough as it was. He didn't want to be thinking about what could possible go wrong.

He made it down to the fourth floor where he heard what sounded like sobbing. He sighed softly, looking to the stairs and the door leading down to the kitchens. He sighed again. "I'm too nice a guy." He said. He turned on his heel and headed into the Fourth Floor corridor.

He followed the sounds of crying towards the girl's bathroom and he wanted to groan. Instead, he knocked on the door with the scythe, banging it heavily against the wood to alert the person inside. "Go away!"

"Great, Hysterical girl." Harry said to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to come in if I don't have to Hermione." Harry called out. "So why don't you come out so I can ask what's wrong to your face?"

Harry hadn't expected much, but eventually Hermione came out. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks red and clearly stained with tears. Her eyes blinked a moment as she took in Harry's appearance.

Harry grinned a bit cheekily under his robe, knowing the hood covered his face. With both hands behind his back, he pushed his aura up a bit, just enough to make his hands skeletal. "Death approaches Hermione Granger." Harry said, bringing his hands out from behind his back, waving them a bit. He made his voice sound over dramatic, ruining most of the effect of his Deathly Aura.

Hermione gave an unladylike snort and tried to cover her mouth with her hands. "I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to laugh." She said.

Harry shrugged a bit. "No problem, come on." He led her over to a set of chairs that was there to act as a sort of common area for students that were early to class. He sat down and propped his feet up on the coffee table, looking utterly relaxed. "So… Ms. Granger, how may this Reaper help you today?"

Hermione snorted again but this time it turned into a bit of a weak laugh. "I can't believe you. Dressing like the Grim Reaper of all people." Hermione admonished softly. "And what did you do to your hands? Where did you get that scythe?"

Harry looked to his hands briefly. "Oh this? This is just a simple glamour." He said and pushed his Aura down so that his hands looked normal. Thankfully, she couldn't see his face going back through the transformation also or she might have called him out on that. "As for the Scythe…" Harry looked at it thoughtfully. "Found it actually."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "How on earth did you possibly find that?"

"Well, a scythe is a weapon, and this is a castle, so it stands to reason there is an armory somewhere." Harry said. "I didn't find such a thing, but my point stands. Anyways, what's wrong with you? What had you in the bathroom crying your eyes out?"

Hermione bowed her head a bit, as though she was ashamed of what had happened and she didn't want to say anything. Harry waited though, he wasn't going to be mean or rude or anything to the girl for what made her cry. But he realized that she hadn't quite been done crying and was quietly sobbing.

Harry closed his eyes and didn't make a noise. But in truth, he had no clue how to handle a crying girl. Dust was no help in the manner either. Harry's exposure to girls was vastly limited, and as such he wasn't sure how to comfort one. Still, he had to make an attempt or else he wouldn't get an answer out of the girl.

Perhaps he should walk away, the thought had occurred to him on more than one occasion. He didn't know Hermione, he wasn't in her House. However, he had assured Flitwick he would try to be more personable, let people within his Fortress of Walls around his heart.

Harry reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. "I cannot help Hermione, if I do not know what is wrong." He said.

"It's just so many things." Hermione said, sniffling a bit. "I'm a bit homesick, my parents were my pillars when I was going through the teasing of the other students back in Primary school and I can't contact them. The school owls aren't the best of owls, and while they would make the trip, I don't want them to scare my mom or dad either." She said.

Harry nodded slowly, understanding. That was perhaps the easiest fix he had. "If I'm not using Ashes, I'll send him your way. Send him to your parents. Ashes is an intelligent owl, if you tell him to remain out of sight, he'll remain out of sight." Harry said.

Hermione blinked a moment like what Harry had said was completely alien to her. She then threw her arms around him. "Oh Harry! Thank you!" she called out, squeezing him tight.

Harry began to struggle and pried her off. "Okay, new personal rule. No hugging." Harry said. "I don't do very well with physical contact. If you absolutely must hug me, do it from the side and give me a way out. I tend to react violently to things I'm not comfortable with. It's not you Hermione, I promise." Harry said, looking to the bushy haired witch.

Hermione's eyes had been wide but they softened as he spoke and reassured her. Harry really wasn't sure why he bothered. He didn't need to explain himself to her; he didn't need to explain that he was uncomfortable being trapped like that. She was just lucky that he hadn't used the Harvester on her when she did hug him.

"Now what else is wrong?" Harry asked. "I don't think that it's just not being able to talk things out with your parents after school every day anymore."

Hermione nodded softly. "It's the other girls in my dorm. I just… I can't connect with them. All they want to talk about is fashion and similar such nonsense. I've tried even talking to the Ravenclaw girls but they snub me. I get called a nosey know it all." She said.

"Well…" Harry said. It would be the pot calling the kettle black. "You are." He said. He held his hand up to forestall her comment. "I never said it was a bad thing just that you are. That is one of your defining traits is that you are an intelligent young Witch. The others might not even be meaning it as an insult, they likely are and I will be having a conversation with them about it, but I don't know off the top of my head.

"My point, Hermione, is that you are an intelligent young witch that also wants to see everyone around her do well. So you are nosey in that you're getting into others' business, and you are a know it all. I bet I could start naming off Second Year spells and you'd be able to tell me the incantation and the use of the spell. But at the same time, you need to back off a little bit. You need to learn to just enjoy things or else you're going to burn out." Harry was acutely aware that he should take his own advice. "Take me for example, I exercise to relieve stress and have fun. I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie."

"You did BASE jump off of Hogwarts. What in the world possessed you to do that anyways?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "It was fun, seemed like a good idea at the time, and I wanted to test myself."

If Hermione rolled her eyes any harder, Harry would have heard it. "Anything else oh wise Wizard?" she asked.

"I'm not Gandalf." Harry said admonished. "But don't try to help others. No disrespect, but you have no aptitude to be a teacher. You'd do better in a research role. You're the type that wants to give a lot of dry facts and statistics, the way Binns used to. Let someone else cut through that clutter and get to the really important information themselves."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Harry brought his hands to his face trying to best describe it. "You have a tendency to give too much information. You probably realize this, so compensate by trying to give just enough to get your point across, yet it can come off as condescending. And no eleven year old wants to be talked down to; it's in our very natures to rebel."

Hermione nodded softly. "So what should I do?" she asked.

"Make yourself available to help others, but let them come to you." Harry said simply. He stood up and picked up the Harvester. "Come on, I'll walk you down to the Great Hall where we'll part ways. I'm heading to the kitchens to eat instead."

Hermione rose to her feet and nodded. The two then began to make their way from the fourth floor down. Hermione wrinkled her nose as they entered the Grand Staircase. "What on earth is that smell?" she asked. There was quite a foul smell in the air.

"I'm not entirely sure." Harry said as he kept moving further down, clutching the Harvester tighter.

They were at the second floor. "Harry, do you notice something odd?" Hermione asked.

Harry glanced around. Aside from the smell, he hadn't really noticed anything strange. Yet with attention being drawn to it, he noticed it immediately. The stairs weren't moving, the suits of armor were still, and the paintings were frozen in place.

Harry heard a thud at the bottom of the steps as they made it to the First Floor landing. He stared as the lumbering form moved into view. The source of the smell was found as it came out of a secret passage way. The mountain troll looked up to them from the bottom of the steps.

Harry hated Halloween.

End Chapter

A/N: I hated this chapter. It didn't want to write.


	10. Chapter 10

Book 1

Chapter 10

Ten seconds. It was an incredibly short amount of time. And yet, in those ten seconds, Harry's mind had already raced through his spells and his weapons that he had on him. Ten seconds was all it took for his mind to come to one simple fact of the matter that was undeniable, no matter how much he wished for it to be otherwise.

He was not ready to fight a Mountain Troll head on.

"Run!" Harry barked out to Hermione, throwing his hand back and turning to get back up the stairs. He felt something grip his heart, something he had not experienced in a long time but was quite intimately familiar with.

Fear. Fear gripped him.

And yet, as the cold grasp of fear gripped him, making his heart pound fiercely, Harry came to a second conclusion. It was a conclusion that would test his resolve, test every skill he had at his command. It was not a pleasant feeling that he had circulating in his gut, but it eventually settled to feel like lead.

He had to bait the Mountain Troll.

Harry's wand flashed to his hand and he turned briefly to face the Mountain troll that was lumbering up. It seemed to debate between chasing them and going into a hallway. Harry sent a Stinging Hex at it, nailing it in the side of the head. He sent three more before the Mountain Troll decided to keep going after the both of them.

"Are you Mad?!" Hermione cried out, having seen what he had been doing, pausing a moment.

Harry holstered his wand with a mere thought and quickly worked his robes off, chucking them over the railing as he ran. He had to shift the Harvester in his hands, but he quickly had a bit more maneuverability, sending another three Stinging Hexes at the Mountain Troll.

"No!" Harry barked at Hermione. "Now keep running! We have to distract it and keep it from entering a Hallway." At least in the Grand Staircase, there was room for the Professors to enter, through one of the various secret passages. If the Mountain Troll got into a hallway, or Merlin Forbid a Dorm, then the Professors had to try and enter with the Mountain Troll already inside, giving them less room to fight as well.

It had to remain in the Grand Staircase at all costs.

Harry's eyes scanned the portraits, desperately looking for one to be moving to send for help. Yet they were all frozen into place, forced to be plain regular portraits until the spell worn off. His mind raced through the information he knew about Mountain Trolls, and it wasn't pretty.

The true classification of a Mountain Troll had been argued for centuries. It shared few characteristics with other Trolls, such as a Swamp or a Snow Troll. It did not share the weakness for Fire that plagued the Troll species in general. On the other hand, it did not have quite the regenerative abilities either. Swamp and Sea Trolls were known for being able to form into two Trolls if they had a limb cut off and there was no fire to be had. Given the Mountain Troll's size as well, being larger than regular Trolls which were already bigger than your average man, many wanted to classify a Mountain Troll as a subspecies of Giants.

However, that didn't quite work either. While Giants were volatile in nature as they were, they generally didn't fight amongst each other unless there was food or space at stake. Yet put a group of Mountain Trolls near a group of Giants, and the Giants would absolutely butcher the Mountain Trolls.

And unfortunately all of that information wasn't helping the current situation, as dire as it was.

"How did a Troll get inside the School?" Hermione cried as she kept running higher.

"Wrong question." Harry said, easily keeping pace with her and sending Stinging Hexes at the Mountain Troll when it looked like he was going to overtake her. "You should be asking 'Who' and 'Why'!"

How was easy to figure out. Someone purposely let it inside the School. And it could hardly be a coincidence that all the Stairs and Portraits were frozen in the Grand Staircase also. It meant that the Troll was some sort of distraction.

Hermione had arrived at the Seventh Floor steps, nowhere else to go. "Where do we go now?" she cried out.

Harry glanced to the Mountain Troll on the sixth floor, and steadily coming up after them. He then glanced to the Harvester and over the edge of the railing to the ground floor. Harry glanced up, seconds passing by. The lumbering footsteps behind them were deafening.

Harry threw the Harvester with all of his might. The scythe blade sank into the stone ceiling of the Grand Staircase sticking out quite rigidly. Harry then glanced to Hermione and grabbed her shoulders. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"No offense, but not really!" Hermione said panicking as the Mountain Troll loomed ever closer.

"Good answer!" Harry said with a grin. He wrapped an arm around her waist anyways and stepped up onto the railing and jumped. In under a second of the jump, he yanked the cord to his parachute. It wrenched out of the backpack and slowed them down.

They still came in fast and slammed down at the Third Floor. Harry positioned himself to take the brunt of the landing, grunting at the impact. He scrambled to get the Parachute off and Hermione up on her feet. His ears were still ringing from where Hermione had screamed the entire way down.

Harry smacked Hermione's cheeks, seeing she was unresponsive. That quickly got her attention. "Get to the Great Hall. Get some help." Harry told her, pointing down the stairs.

Hermione glanced down the stairs and nodded, starting to go. She was breathing heavily, having run and panicked more than she ever had before. "What about you though?" she asked, realizing Harry wasn't following her. Instead, he was going back up the steps.

Harry glanced to Hermione. "I'm keeping it distracted at all costs. We cannot let it get into a Hallway; we cannot let it get into a Dorm. It'll be a bloodbath of the Professors, no matter how good they are." It was simple tactics in Harry's mind. A large creature that could destroy walls in an enclosed space with a perfectly formed funnel in the way of a door against frail older witches and wizards whose spells would quickly drain them of their energy.

It was a no contest.

Harry glanced up at the Troll while Hermione ran, heading for the Great Hall. In truth, Harry had a Mountain Troll to kill now that the variables had changed. He unsheathed his knife to go with his wand.

-_Scene Break-_

It was time to end the charade of being asleep. Quirrel slowly opened his eyes and checked to make sure the turban was in place. It would not due to have anyone see his Master. His Master was already furious that even one person had seen him in such a weakened state. For anyone else to see him in such a state would be a death sentence.

"Oh Quirinus, you're awake!" Pomfrey moved to come and check on him.

He waved her off. "I-I-It's al-al-alright-t-t P-P-P-Poppy." Quirrel couldn't believe that the fools took him for a stuttering and simpering fool. He was anything but. He knew Dark Arts the likes of which none of them could imagine, knowledge his Master so graciously allowed for him to know. "Wh-Wh-What a-a-a-about th-th-the T-T-Troll." He asked.

"Albus and the others have not yet returned from the Dungeons." Pomfrey said.

Quirrel nodded and rose. "I b-b-best g-g-go help. Th-th-the sh-sh-sh-shock of s-s-seeing one s-s-so s-s-s-suddenly w-w-was t-t-t-too m-m-much. I-I-I'm b-b-better pr-pr-prepared n-n-now." Quirrel then headed to the staff entrance and made his way out of the Great Hall.

He frowned once out of eyesight and began to move off. He was suddenly filled with confidence, his back straight and the shaking stopping. He stepped through a secret passage that led directly to the Third Floor.

Briefly, he went out to the Grand Staircase, seeing a student rushing up behind the Troll two floors up. From the sight of the Parachute, Quirrel went out on a limb and believed it to be Potter. If Potter died, then his Master would likely be upset.

On the other hand, if a mere Troll killed Harry Potter, then he was obviously not as great as his Master, and thus the first time, while unfortunate, had been a mere fluke.

He made his way towards the door where he knew the Stone was being kept. He only knew of his trap in place. It would not be terribly sophisticated to make his way through the traps however. He had the knowledge of his Master at his disposal.

Quirrel flicked his wand and the bolted door opened with hardly an effort. He stepped inside only to be met with hot breath. Quirrel's eyes widened at the sight of the Cerberus that started to rise so it could lunge. It had been unexpected. He backed away and shut the door, locking it once more.

Quirrel seethed slightly. It would seem he would have to deal with that oaf Hagrid. It wouldn't be terribly difficult. A bit of brandy and the man would start singing his secrets. Perhaps he could look into getting a Dragon's egg for a game of poker. Make it look like he was worried Hagrid couldn't take care of the Dragon. Of course, he didn't care if Hagrid could or not. If the Dragon ate him, all the better.

Quirrel thought for a moment. Perhaps he should also probe into what the other Professors offered for traps guarding the stone. Dumbledore had not been a fool when he devised the traps.

He had started at the back, and one by one he had brought a Professor down to series of rooms that would guard the stone. The Professors would bring down what they had to offer, and from there they would leave, never knowing what was before or after theirs.

He had time. But it would require going to hunt for another Unicorn or two while he waited.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry was amazed at how fast he worked through the scenario in his head. He knew there were various unaccounted variables that could throw it off. He didn't know how fast or reactive this particular Mountain Troll was.

He knew the real reason that he had come up with the idea so quickly. He was utterly prepared for defeat. He was prepared for his body to be crushed, his bones destroyed beyond repair. It terrified him, but he kept thinking of those like Ron, Hermione, Millicent, Susan, Terry, Su, Padma, Anthony. If he didn't do this, if he didn't risk himself, they could be the ones broken and hurt.

And to Harry, that was unacceptable.

He kept sending Stinging Hexes up at the Mountain Troll while he ran. To a human, this many would likely put them in anaphylactic shock. Yet to the Mountain Troll, with its magically resistant skin, at best it was like someone throwing pebbles at it.

Pebbles that hit it in the face and eyes, but pebbles nonetheless.

Harry needed to get back to the Seventh floor. So Harry had to run up and down the stairs between the Sixth and Fifth floors, drawing the Mountain Troll away from the Seventh Floor. Then it was the Fourth and Fifth Floor.

Harry made his attempt. He rushed up the stairs, holstering his wand. The Mountain Troll was on the Fifth Floor landing when he made his attempt. Harry pivoted around its massive feet so he wouldn't be stepped on when it tried to turn around. He then drove his knife into its thigh with all his strength, giving a slight cry as he drove the knife right up to its hilt before rushing up the stairs to the Sixth Floor.

There was a bellow of rage and anger before it began to lumber up after him, not at all impeded by the knife stuck in its leg. Still, Harry was just a bit faster, running up the steps a bit faster. He made it to the Seventh Floor by the time the Mountain Troll got to the Sixth Floor landing.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" _Harry's wand was out once more and the spell connected with the Mountain Troll's club. He wasn't sure if dropping the club on the Mountain Troll's head would work, so he directed the club off the banister, hearing it hit the floor with a hard thud.

The Mountain Troll looked and sounded confused, looking over the railing. Harry sighed and pointed his wand at it and cast Stinging Hexes at its face until it turned and took one right to the eye. It let out a roaring bellow and charged at Harry.

"Come on." Harry said, putting his wand away, watching as the Mountain Troll trudged up the stairs, and quickly gaining speed. "Come on, come on, come one!" Harry shouted the last one, his wand coming out to send a Gouging Hex, courtesy of Flitwick's training the past Saturday. Harry saw it practically start running at this point.

Harry hopped up onto the railing, hearing the thundering getting closer. He turned his back to the Mountain Troll and jumped. Every muscle in his body pushed propelling himself through the air.

There was a second crash rubble and chunks of the banister flying at Harry as he pumped his arms and legs, trying to go just a few inches higher and farther. He caught the shaft of the Harvester in his right hand and it went limp, letting him swing as it extended.

It came free and he quickly landed on the Fifth Floor landing with a hard thud and a groan. He scrambled to get onto his feet and looked over the railing, breathing heavily as he looked down. The Mountain Troll was unmoving at Ground Floor.

Harry quickly raced down, the Harvester wrapping around his arm and resting on his hand as he ran. Adrenaline was surging through him, making the aches and pains go away for the time being. He got down to the Ground Floor, hearing the labored breathing of the Mountain Troll.

Harry commanded the Harvester into scythe form, hearing the pitiful sounds of the Mountain Troll. He closed his eyes and raised the Scythe as high as he could. "I'm sorry." He whispered. Not for killing the Mountain Troll, no. He had almost certainly decided that it would die, just to keep it from harming anyone.

He was sorry that it had to suffer, that it did not die on impact from a seven story fall. Nothing, not even an enemy should be made to suffer. Harry's scythe slashed down, severing the spinal column of the massive beast. The enchantments on the Harvester made its magically thick hide seem about the strength of butter.

Harry hacked at the neck for another six swings before the head was free and he was absolutely certain it was dead. He didn't hear any noise after the initial cut, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. Harry slumped against the body, feeling blood pooling around him. He didn't care.

He spotted his knife, still in the side of the upper thigh and he reached down, yanking it free.

Harry thought he was going to be sick about his first kill.

-_Scene Break, Moments Earlier-_

Flitwick could tell that the rest of his Ravenclaws were nervous as he paced up and down the Great Hall, his wand out and prepared to do anything. He had sealed the larger doors shut so they would not open, but left the smaller door at the bottom right open so that a person could come through.

One of his Ravens was in danger. But he was forced to sacrifice one of the few to protect the many. It had his anger all sorts of acting up. Quirrel had already left, instead of letting Flitwick leave to try and find Harry.

So the diminutive Charms Professor paced back and forth. Slughorn was well liked enough that he was able to take the reins of leadership and have all Four Houses listen to him, especially with a Troll on the loose.

Flitwick's wand flashed up as the door opened. "Oh Ms. Granger, thank goodness you are safe." Flitwick said, lowering his wand. "Go to your table and await further instructions." Flitwick said about to resume his pacing.

"Harry's in trouble, he's keeping the Troll in the Grand Staircase." Hermione said when she managed to breathe well enough.

Flitwick's eyes widened and his wand lashed out at the stone he was standing upon. Flames etched a rough diamond shape around his feet before it rose up and began to move forward. He had devised the spell to help with travel given his smaller frame.

Dumbledore and the others were heading to the Dungeon and Flitwick was heading for the troll. He could only hope that Harry managed to stay alive until he got there. It was why he was leaving the students. He knew where the Troll was and could keep it contained there, possibly defeat it.

Sometimes saving the one saved the many.

Flitwick cast a Patronus with a message to Dumbledore. The Raven shot through the walls and air, heading for Dumbledore. Flitwick practically heard his heart pounding as he heard the massive crash. He pushed his little rock platform to the fastest speed he could, zooming up the stairs and down the Hallway towards the Grand Staircase.

As a part Goblin, Flitwick was highly in tune with particular branches of magic. He felt something that sent a ripple through him. Four Wards around Hogwarts sprang to life, humming with such bright intensity. Flitwick knew the feel of the wards. Death Magic protecting Hogwarts.

A Blasting Hex on the door blew it clear off its Hinges. Flitwick feared the worst as he headed into the Grand Staircase. Dumbledore and the others arrived in a separate passage way, seeing something that utterly shocked the Charms Professor.

Harry had looked up at the door being blasted off its hinges. His wand was in his hand, a Gouging Hex on the tip of his tongue. He lowered it slowly, seeing it was Flitwick. He let out a deep sigh of relief. He then saw Dumbledore and the rest of the staff.

"Harry, my boy, what have you done?" Dumbledore asked staring wide eyed at the body of the Troll.

Harry was too tired and too sore to play the games with the old man. He slowly stood up, his clothes absolutely soaked in blood. He was even too tired to reprimand Dumbledore for the familiar way he used his name. Harry put his wand back in its holster, the knife having already been placed a while ago.

"I did what needed to be done." Harry said and began to limp off. "Now, I'm going to get a shower, and I'm going to get some rest." He said as he began to climb the stairs slowly. His body ached something fierce, and he desperately wanted to go to sleep.

He was coming down hard from the adrenaline rush he had. But that was to be expected.

He grabbed his parachute and continued walking up the stairs, his scythe tapping against the stones while the parachute dragged behind him.

Harry hated Halloween.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry had been thinking the past few days. It was now the Sunday after the Troll Incident. Several things were not adding up in his mind about the incident. Like the reason the Troll had been let loose in the school. Admittedly, Harry believed that was because there was something worthwhile being kept in the Third Floor corridor.

Flitwick hadn't hounded Harry the day before in his 'detention.' Instead, Harry was pretty much given a bunch of free time to do whatever he wanted. Flitwick had been curious about the scythe and had even asked about it.

Harry had quite politely declined to mention it in the slightest or where it came from. He simply told Flitwick it had been instrumental in keeping Harry's life.

But despite all of these things, none of them were the real things that Harry had been thinking about the past few days. He had been thinking about the near reckless way he had almost sacrificed his life. There were still dozens of things he needed to have done before he could die and he had almost ran headlong into his death like some sort of fool.

Even Dust had berated him for such reckless actions.

It meant that Harry was going to need to act. He had gotten complacent.

Harry rolled out of his bed, glancing at his Dorm mates who were passed out and snoring slightly, getting ready for the next day. Harry dressed in a pair of black slacks and a long sleeved black sweater that hugged his body. He then picked up the Harvester and let it wrap around his left arm. The wand went on his right forearm.

It was unacceptable anymore. It was time to fulfill some of the things he had told himself he would set about doing.

"Dust." Harry whispered and his familiar snapped awake and came over to land on Harry's shoulder. The crow gave a small caw. Harry petted Dust slightly before he began to head down to the Common Room. He glanced around, seeing all the others had gone up to bed.

He made his way out of the Common Room and began to head down the Ravenclaw Tower. As he walked, he began to draw up his Deathly Aura. Undoubtedly it would alert the Ghosts, but it would also keep the Prefects from going near him as he headed down towards the Third Floor.

Harry looked at the lock on the door and pointed his wand at it, offering a small jab with the incantation. The lock surprisingly clicked open.

He glanced down at the dusty floor and saw there to be several sets of footprints. He estimated there had been at least eight people that had come before him. He frowned a moment before he entered through the door.

Harry looked to the Cerberus and watched as it began to get up, no doubt alerted by his Deathly Aura. It backed up a bit, barking and growling until its paws were off the trap door. Harry walked forward and watched as it backed up until it hit the back wall.

Harry used his wand to raise the trapdoor, never taking his eyes off the growling Cerberus. It was a cornered animal, faced with the prospect of Death.

Harry didn't look; he just jumped down into the darkness below the trap door. Almost immediately, he felt something slithering over him, squeezing him and he began to panic, feeling it enclose around him. He needed to see it though; he desperately needed to know what was attacking him and Dust. "_Lumos_!" he cried out.

He fell another five feet, landing on his back. The yellow light offered by the spell allowed Harry to see the slithering of the plant, shooting back towards the wall. Harry slowly stood up, spinning on his heel. Fear gripped him and it quickly morphed into anger. And then he realized what it was. It was Devil's Snare, a plant that absolutely loathed any form of light.

Harry felt even more anger at himself for feeling fear at such a plant. Taking a deep breath, he clutched his wand tighter and heard the rattling of the Harvester as it responded to his anger.

He seriously needed to get over his Claustrophobia.

Harry continued along the path, hearing hundreds of wings fluttering. As he entered, he glanced around. He saw a half dozen brooms or so just floating there. He headed for the door and checked it, using the Unlocking Charm to no avail. He glanced up at the fluttering.

Harry recognized it at Professor Flitwick's challenge. The charmed keys were fluttering about in various directions. He also recognized that Flitwick wouldn't just have such a simple solution as to find the key and put it in the door.

Harry turned to the door. He didn't have time to go up in the air and risk things. He put his wand away and extended the Harvester to a full scythe. He slashed into the wood, cleaving it clean through. He then pushed half the door open and headed through, closing the door behind him. Just in time too as the sound of the keys slamming into the door was heard.

Harry stared at the next challenge as torches quickly lit up the area. He sighed at the giant chess board. He tried to circumvent it and go past the white pieces, but the pawns drew their swords at his approach. He could probably hack them to pieces with the Harvester, but it would put his back at risk.

Harry put the Harvester away and looked at the Black Pieces. He moved over and climbed atop the Queen, sitting on her shoulders. It would give him the best view of the entire board.

The game quickly began in earnest and Harry made quick work of the challenge. It was a challenging game of Chess, but Harry still got check mate in the end.

He climbed down from the Queen and headed into the next room.

Fear spiked through him, before settling to anger once more. Inside was a Troll that was quite asleep. It was also a great deal bigger than the one he had previously fought, and it had armored plates on its body and a spiked cudgel as well. Harry did not want to fight this beast.

He crept along until he made it to the next room. Fire flared up upon both sides, blocking the doors quite effectively. Undoubtedly it was cursed fire that would kill Harry should he attempt to pass through it.

"If only I had the cowl." Harry murmured as he went to the table and began to read the test of logic. He scoffed at it and rolled his eyes.

He made short work of discerning which potion was which and he picked both up. He drank the potion to move forward and came to a plain room, in which sat a ruby red stone on a raised platform. Harry moved over to the stone and picked it up. He expected some great challenge and yet…

And yet, nothing happened. With a shrug of his shoulders, he put it in his pocket and turned walking out.

As he walked out, he thought of how he would have made each and every trap lethal. There would not have been a potion to let someone through the flames. He would have just made all the bottles poisons.

The Mountain Troll was a nice touch. He would give it that. But it was sleeping, making it a piss poor guard.

The chess set should have attacked him, even after achieving Check Mate. His guard would have been down, and he would have likely been severely injured.

The winged keys should have forced you to participate in their likely dangerous game. The door should have been swapped out with an iron door that wouldn't be blasted open, cut through, or the lock picked.

Harry cast _Lumos_ inside the room with the Devil's Snare. He would have filled the room with poisonous spores. He launched the Harvester at the trapdoor and caught it before he let it yank him up.

He landed inside with the Cerberus and turned, glaring at it to make it back up as his Deathly Aura flared up. The Cerberus he would have replaced with a dragon.

"One down, one to go." Harry told himself as he began to make his way towards the Seventh Floor. Again, he kept up his Deathly Aura to keep anyone from wanting to particularly come after him. If a Prefect came along to try and take points and give him a detention, Harry would have to punch them for coming towards what was giving off such an intense Aura.

He made it to the spot where he felt the strongest concentration and frowned at the sight of just a brick wall. He lightly knocked on the stone, getting nothing in return. His frown intensified. He moved back and sat down, rubbing his chin.

He then thought of something that Dust had told him. '_If you want to know every nook and cranny of a place of establishment, ask the servants.'_ Of course, nowadays that meant asking those that were in charge of the upkeep of the establishment.

But for here at Hogwarts… "I call upon the Servants of this Castle!" Harry declared, standing up once more.

He waited, and waited, and waited and frowned a bit. Just as he was about to leave, to get some sleep so he wasn't the walking dead in the morning, there was a loud pop. He saw a House Elf like the one Flitwick had summoned. "Headmaster Dumblydore forbids Students from callings upon us." The House Elf squeaked, admonishing with its finger.

Harry stood straighter. "I am a Guest of this Castle that you serve. Are you saying that you would deny me basic hospitality in answering a question based on a man that is not your master? You are bound, not to the Headmaster, but instead to the school, are you not?"

The House Elf squeaked a bit and bowed. "Forgives me, Sir. Forgives me. We is never thinkings of that. We is hearings students' calls but cannots answer. We wishes to serve Sir."

Harry nodded and gently patted the House Elf on its head. "What is behind this wall?" Harry asked, pointing to it. "And how do I get to it?"

The House Elf looked to where Harry pointed and then looked around. "That Sir, thats is the Come and Go Room. Hogwarts knows the needs of her Guests. If yous walks by the wall three times, and thinks of yous needs, Hogwarts will supply a room."

Now wasn't that fascinating? Harry looked at the wall a bit more interested now, noting the portrait of Barnaby the Barmy. Harry began to pace, not thinking of anything. He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes. '_I need where things are hidden. I need where things are lost. I need where things are forgotten.'_

He opened his eyes on the third pass and saw the door there. He opened it slowly and gasp at the feel of the Death Magic. He swallowed heavily and steeled himself. He glanced to the House Elf waiting expectantly. "You did well, you are no longer required."

The House Elf bowed lowly, its big ears touching the floor before it popped away.

Harry began to walk through the room, glancing around. He saw a many things, mostly junk to be honest. Fang Frisbees, potions that were spoiled, broken broomsticks, ruined robes, even cauldrons that were broken.

His feet took him to a Bust of quite the hideous witch. But on top of it was a silver diadem. He frowned at it, immediately recognizing it as Rowena Ravenclaw's long lost Diadem. The Death Magic radiated from it quite evilly.

He reached out with his wand and used that to lift it up. He glanced around and eventually came to a silk sack whose contents he spilled out. He put the diadem in the sack and tied it off carefully. He would go to Flitwick immediately in the morning. For now though, he needed to head back to bed.

"Two for two." Harry said softly as he headed out.

He would remember the room; it would be perfect for his needs.

End Chapter

A/N: There you go! We're finally picking things up again!


	11. Chapter 11

Book 1

Chapter 11

Harry awoke later than he normally did. Late enough that he sat up and glanced around, putting his glasses on to take a look around. Upon seeing his dorm mates rousing and moving to get up, Harry rose and grabbed his things. He headed for the shower and took a quick one.

He dried off and dressed quickly in his school uniform. His knife went to his left arm and his wand went to his right, just like always.

He then headed to his trunk, greeting the others that moved into the bathroom to do their morning rituals, just as Harry had just done so. He took the time they were gone to access the guarded compartment of his trunk. He gently petted the Harvester and took out the silk bag that contained the Diadem.

He tucked that into his school bag before rising up and heading down the stairs. He had Charms first thing with Flitwick, though that didn't mean much. Just that Harry had a brief moment of time to speak with his Head of House between breakfast and then his class. Still, he wasn't going to interrupt either thing for Flitwick's attention, even if this was an urgent matter.

Harry headed down to breakfast with Dust settling on his shoulder, offering little caws. He found himself mostly agreeing with his familiar on what it was saying. Harry wanted, desperately, to keep this away from the prying eyes of Dumbledore.

On a gut feeling, Harry also wanted to keep it away from Quirrel. He would have been, perhaps, his first choice, being a Defense against the Dark Arts Professor. But there was something about Quirrel that rubbed Harry wrong. Like there was a wrongness to him that needed eradicated. Harry couldn't tell what it was, even though Dust had commented that as a Rider he should have attacked already.

Harry needed some more proof than a gut feeling on the wrongness. There needed to be proof. It had caused some tension between him and Dust, but eventually Dust settled and let Harry do things his way. They were, after all, destroying one of the vile constructs that had been plaguing Harry's thoughts.

Harry entered the Great Hall and saw that Professor Flitwick was already working on his morning breakfast. He headed up along the Ravenclaw table, no one bothering to try and stop him anymore. It was a sort of tradition to sit by year, with First Years at the far end of the table and the Seventh Years near the Staff. Harry chose to sit up by the Staff simply because the upper years would generally leave him alone to do his work while eating.

But Harry didn't take his usual seat, he continued up to the Staff Table, stepping in front of Professor Flitwick. "Professor, I would like a moment of your time at your earliest convenience. It is a matter of fair importance, so the sooner would be better." Harry said.

Flitwick sat back in his seat a moment, looking up to Harry. "What about Mr. Potter?" he asked. He was quite curious to the turn of events.

Harry bit his tongue a moment. "It's a bit of research." Harry said after a moment. Flitwick was the only one that knew of Harry's desire to learn all magic, to learn why they worked the way they worked. By being quite vague about some research, Flitwick would be less inclined to ask more questions around the other teachers who might not be so open with Harry's ambitions.

The Hat did say Slytherin would suit him well.

Flitwick nodded. "Very well Mr. Potter. Meet me before class begins and I will see if I can help you." As Harry began to move back to his usual seat to settle in for breakfast, Flitwick decided to speak up. "Mr. Potter, why did you ask me for a moment of my time at my earliest convenience instead of simply coming to me before class started?" he asked

Harry chuckled softly and turned to face Flitwick. "Ah, that should be rather obvious." At seeing the other Professors listening in, as well as some of the upper year students, Harry couldn't help but chuckle some more.

"Professor, you are a twelve time world class Dueling Champion." Harry said. "The fan mail alone must be utterly staggering. Not to mention requests from people for you to train them, or from sponsors that desperately want to see you back on the circuit, putting another notch in your wand holster under their sponsorship.

"You are a Charms Master of International Accreditation. I cannot imagine the number of requests you get weekly from people, the World over, for you to take them, or a family member, on as an Apprentice. Each of these you have to respond to without making any enemies, which means taking the time to read through each and every one of them and explaining to them why you are not accepting an Apprentice at the moment.

"You're Head of House to the most students here at Hogwarts. There are forty-two Ravenclaws. As Head of House, you have to deal with things from simple Homesickness, to more serious things like bullying. Then there are your Seventh Year students, undoubtedly trying to get a head start on getting a job before leaving Hogwarts, which means they could ask you for ideas, opinions, and even a letter of recommendation.

"Lastly, you're Charms Professor to over a hundred and twenty students. Your NEWT level classes have one of the highest application percentage rates across all Four Houses. The only two higher are Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration, but this is by percentage of students, not number of students attending. As a First Year, we currently have a foot and a half essay due on Thursday about the Levitation charm. I have no idea the length of essays assigned to the other years." Harry said.

"We have a ten foot essay due on the Fidelius Charm." One of the Seventh year Claws supplied.

Harry made a point to pause and point to that Ravenclaw as though to say 'Thank you' "And you have to read each and every one of these essays of your many students and grade them. This all isn't including anything regarding watching over Detentions, doing personal research, and then patrolling the castle at night. The point of all of this is that your time is a valuable commodity, just like it is with many of the Professors. By coming and making an appointment, I have a much higher chance of you not having to deal with anything else at the time that may be far more important than my needing your assistance with some independent research."

Harry then promptly went back to his seat to sit down. A Seventh Year leaned over a bit. "How did you know all that stuff about Professor Flitwick?" she asked.

Harry took a moment to load his plate and pour himself some orange juice before shrugging. "I do not know everything, I don't know what he gets, doesn't get, or how he spends his time." He said honestly. "But I have done my research on each and every one of the Professors."

Up at the Staff Table, Sprout leaned over to her colleague who was looking like a mix between modest embarrassment and pride. "Is all of that true Fillius?"

"I wouldn't know the exact statistics." Flitwick said. "And yes, I do indeed get fan mail, sponsor invites, Apprenticeship requests but in no great amount. I set aside four hours of every week to deal with all three of them. At most, it takes me two hours to go through them all and respond."

Sprout nodded, sitting straight once more. She had a high opinion of her colleague already, but the dedication and hard work to all of his duties was inspiring really. Especially since she was Head of the House of the Hardworking.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry paced like a caged animal in front of Flitwick's office. He could already feel the Diadem affecting him, even with Dust cawing slightly to him, keeping him grounded. Right now, it was just giving dark murmurs. But he knew eventually, with prolonged exposure, those murmurs would turned to sweet, seductive honeyed whispers in his ear.

Flitwick came up and opened the door. "Come on in Harry; tell me what you need me for." He said as he made his way towards the desk and sat down. He could see Harry was agitated by something. It made him a little nervous.

Harry stepped into the office and closed it and locked it. "Any additional privacy spells would be appreciated." Harry said and plopped his bag on the desk, staying standing and pacing.

Flitwick's wand came out and wards began to be erected. The spells caressed Harry's senses and he couldn't help but smile a bit at those, easing the feeling of anxiety. Harry sat down slowly and drew from his bag the silk bag containing the diadem.

Harry looked to his Head of House. "Professor, I need a promise that what you're about to see and hear, you will go about it logically."

Flitwick nodded. "I promise Harry."

Harry nodded. He didn't need a wizard's oath. Harry slowly withdrew the gleaming diadem and set it on the desk between them. At no point did he use his bare hands, instead using his wand. "I need to know what this is." He said.

"That's Rowena Ravenclaw's lost Diadem!" Flitwick said standing. "Where on earth did you find it?" He began to reach for it.

"Don't touch it!" Harry barked loudly and saw Flitwick jump in surprise. "I know what it was. I need to know what it is _now_, what it has become. It has a foul, loathsome aura to it. What has once been pure has been utterly and truly tainted beyond measure. To touch it, or put it on, you risk death or possession and in this case I'm not sure which is worse. I found this in this very school."

Flitwick took greater care, seeing the seriousness Harry was displaying. He began to wave his wand over it intricately. "I would say the latter based upon the very strong compulsion charms on it. I am uncertain why you are unaffected by them, but I feel them and I thank you for snapping me out of it. It's subtle, but strong. What do you know already Harry?"

"Dust says I'm not strong enough to destroy it." The crow cawed in response. "And I know of a few very creative, very powerful methods to destroy things permanently." The Harvester being one such object that would do the job, especially when Harry was more magically powerful. "It is Death Magic in its absolutely foulest form and I would say at least one cold blooded murder went into the making of the object. I don't know any more than that. Oh, and I need it identified because there is one of the exact same magical signature within Gringotts."

Flitwick's eyes shot up and he stared at Harry at that last sentence. "The Goblins are keeping one of these things?" His readings were showing some of the foulest things imaginable coming from it. The pure darkness it radiated would consume even the most innocent.

"Not intentionally, I don't think." Harry said. "But I plan to bring it up with my Account Manager once I have more information regarding it."

"Get behind me Harry." Flitwick said, standing up. He charmed a piece of chalk to begin drawing runes at his feet after Harry got behind him. The runes glowed before a powerful barrier, a mix between Goblin and Wizard magic, formed. Flitwick then pointed his wand at the Diadem. The tip of his wand glowed with the strength of the charm he prepared.

Harry didn't hear the incantation. Not over the massive sound the wand gave out as the spell forcefully displaced the air around it. He imagined briefly that it might sound like an Artillery shell being fired. The barrier had spread over the walls, but the desks, and the floor under it, had been completely obliterated in a one foot radius. Harry could see to the ground floor from where he stood behind Flitwick.

However, by the door was glittering silver. The diadem remained intact, despite the force and power behind Flitwick's spell. Flitwick's eyes settled on it. "Grab that Harry. We have to head to Gringotts immediately." Flitwick then flicked his wand out, shooting his Patronus out.

Harry moved over and got it back into the silk bag. "What is it Professor?" Harry asked as Flitwick threw some Floo powder into the grate.

Flitwick's face was a grim mask. "A Horcrux." He said.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry walked briskly behind Flitwick towards Gringotts. He was curious to know what a Horcrux was, but he also acknowledged that now wasn't the time. They apparently needed to get to Gringotts immediately.

The fact Flitwick had sent a Patronus to Dumbledore saying an emergency had popped up and for the Headmaster to cover his class spoke of the urgency of the matter.

They paused at the front of Gringotts and Flitwick turned to look at Harry. "We will take it to your Account Manager Harry." Flitwick said. "From there, it will likely be passed up along the line. I may not be with you at all times."

Harry nodded. "I understand Professor." He said before he headed in.

He went to the nearest available teller with Flitwick in tow. "I wish to speak with the Potter Family Account Manager at his earliest convenience." Harry said before moving to sit down.

Both Professor and student sat agitated. Harry because he was feeling two of the foul objects. They were disgusting to even be anywhere near.

"Mr. Potter, if you and your guest will come with me." Harry was never happier to hear Rotgut's voice. He quickly followed one of his Account Managers to his office.

Harry stayed standing, putting the silk bag holding the Horcrux on the chair while Flitwick sat down.

"Well met Charms Master Gringott." Rotgut said to Flitwick. "But I am uncertain as to why you're accompanying Mr. Potter."

"Gringott?" Harry asked, suddenly interested in his Charms Professor.

"It is my Goblin Clan Harry." Flitwick supplied. "I am here with Mr. Potter because he has brought a matter to me that concerns Gringotts Bank." He said.

"Then why not take it before Director Gringott?" Rotgut asked, slightly confused by the turn of the events.

Harry was getting more and more agitated with feeling the two objects. It was like they responded to each other's presence. "Can someone explain to me what exactly a Horcrux is?" Harry barked, unable to contain it any more.

Rotgut's spine straightened like Harry had just called his mother a sow. "Where did you hear that term Mr. Potter?" Rotgut asked his voice on a razor sharp edge towards genuine anger.

"I told him." Flitwick said. "We have one in our possession, and Harry claims there is another one here in this bank. I couldn't go to Director Gringott because if I said it was bank business, I would need an appointment, if I claimed Clan Business, the Elders would have to be present as well."

Rotgut used his hand, a wave of it, to summon the bag on his desk. He took a pair of cast iron tongs and pulled the Diadem from the sack. He waved his hand over it and suddenly spat a foul sounding swear in Goblin Tongue. He sent for more Goblins.

Rotgut's gaze then turned sharp on Harry. "Are you absolutely certain there is another Horcrux here in the bank?" he asked firmly.

"Positive." Harry said. "I felt it that first day I was here."

Rotgut swore again and waited for the Goblin team to arrive. He barked out his instructions and passed the Diadem off. They would see it purged if possible, destroyed if necessary. Rotgut then stood up. "Come with me." He said and began to briskly walk off.

Harry and Flitwick followed hot on his heels. Harry was still feeling agitated. "What is a Horcrux?" he asked in a tight tone. "I feel both of them, and it's genuinely bothering me. I had that diadem since last night and I barely got a wink of sleep."

"A Horcrux Mr. Potter," Rotgut began. "Is a foul piece of magic. It is created by a cold blooded murder of an innocent in which a person rips a piece of their soul off and puts it into a container. Some think creating a Horcrux shatters the soul, like a pane of glass. Instead, it's more like ripping off a piece of meat from a leg of chicken or lamb. There is no hope for the soul to be fixed once it's gone. Pieces will fray as the Soul is pressed. With one, you could, in theory, live forever. Your soul is anchored to an object on the physical plane after all."

"Whoever made them must be desperate if I'm feeling another besides the Diadem of the exact same magical signature." Harry said.

"They are an abomination." Rotgut spat.

The Goblin Account Manager led Harry and Flitwick towards a set of large, obsidian doors. Harry could see the carving of the twin dragons, the symbol of Gringotts Bank. These doors were opened to reveal an opulent office. Inside was a Goblin in a fine suit, a much finer suit than many of the account managers, Rotgut and Ironskull included.

"What is it Account Manager Rotgut?" The Goblin asked as he sat at a desk, stamping and signing various papers as he read them over. "I am a busy Goblin and have no time for any incessant interruptions without an appointment."

Harry was surprised he could understand the Goblin and turned to his Charms Professor for an explanation. He would expect the Goblins to speak the Goblin Tongue to one another when not expecting human company.

"Translation Runes Harry, not everyone coming to speak with the Director speaks the Goblin Tongue and the Director refuses to speak in anything but with clients. When you passed through the doors, the enchantment fell upon you. Greetings Director Gringott, it is always welcome to see Family once more." Flitwick said, first to Harry, then to the Director who was now looking up.

He saw Harry and sneered a bit. Then turned his direction to Flitwick. "Greetings Charm Master. You are not appointed to see me."

"There is a Horcrux in the bank. Mr. Potter here can sense it." Rotgut said, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

This caused Director Gringott to sit up straight, all paperwork suddenly no longer important. "Are you absolutely certain?" he asked, his beady yellow eyes boring right into Harry. "If this is some stupid human prank, it is ill conceived and I will see you beheaded for it."

Harry drew his knife and cut his palm so that blood showed and splattered on the floor while he stared into the eyes of the Goblin. "I swear on my blood that I am not lying when I saw I felt a Horcrux my first day here in Gringotts. It is in one of the lower vaults, guarded by a dragon. I told a Goblin that I could sense the foul Death Magic, but as I could not say for certain what it had been at the time, I was told that Gringotts could do nothing at the time." Harry said and put his bloodied knife away.

He'd clean it later.

His mention of a dragon though had set the Director swearing, as well as Rotgut and Flitwick surprisingly. And Harry could hear every ounce of foul Goblin language that only had him raising his brow and wondering if those things were at all possible.

He didn't believe boils grew on those.

"What is the problem?" Harry asked, trying to understand.

The Director recovered first, having a clear enough head to handle most of the problems that would come his way. He didn't have the most prestigious position in Gringotts without being able to sort himself out faster than the rest. "Mr. Potter, before I go into the problems and the options, I want to personally thank you for bringing the matter of a Horcrux in the bank to our attention. As such, I am increasing the interest rate on all vaults connected to you, whether you stand to inherit them or you are in control of them, by rate of three percent. As you have some concept of how much wealth you stand to inherit, you will understand why this is quite a bump. This is what _I_ can do to buy your silence at the moment.

"The problem is that dragons are only in some of the oldest vaults here at Gringotts. They are notoriously difficult to train and cost much manpower and man hours to get them responsive to their roles as guardians without simply putting them into the vault with the Gold. The fact this is an old vault means it is literally out of my hands. I cannot, nor any employee of Gringotts, enter the Vault in question under the treaties that restrict my race.

"However," Gringott was extremely serious at this point. "I would be forced to follow my King's orders and laws if he were to tell me to open the vault. At that point, I would not be breaking any treaty. We are still a Sovereign nation unto ourselves.

"Mr. Potter, you will have to take you case before Ragnarokk, High King of the Goblin Nation." Gringott said. He then stood up, no doubt planning to lead him there himself. "Manager Rotgut, entertain Charm Master Gringott until my return."

Harry heard gasps from both Flitwick and Rotgut. A glance also saw them looking with astonishment, fear, uncertainty. It was clear that he was missing some important piece of information.

"Harry,' Flitwick turned to his student. "I am not allowed to come with you on this. The last human to have ever seen the High King of the Goblin Nations was over a thousand years ago I am certain I do not need to tell you this, but you are representing every Wizard that deals business with Goblins, not just with Gringotts. You will be speaking with the most revered Goblin of our nation. There will be no less than two dozen honor guards in the throne with him at all times."

Harry nodded and rose to his feet. He did not ask why Flitwick would not be accompanying them. He simply accepted it. He followed Director Gringott out of the office and down into the depths of the many caverns underneath the bank.

"There will be a Speaker for the High King Mr. Potter." Gringott said, speaking English instead of Harry's brain changing the words due to an enchantment. "I do not foresee why the High King would refuse to allow you entry into the vault in question, not for such a foul abomination. But, he will demand to know how you know it is in the vault, something I'm curious about myself."

Harry nodded simply. He would explain it when asked about it, not when someone makes a simple statement like the Director.

In all honesty, Harry was getting slight anxiety attacks. The walls pressed in around him, closer and closer. His palms were wet with moisture and his collar felt stifling. Still, he walked with his head high and his back straight. He could show no weakness, not in Gringotts, or the presence of the Director.

He noticed Goblins around him turning to watch him stare. He also saw a female Goblin for the first time before she went back to work with the rest of the males who were no longer interested. It seemed there was at least gender equality among the Goblins.

They came to a set of wide doors, made out of many precious ores brilliantly crafted together. It also had many precious gem stones. The craftsmanship on the door showed the genuine artistic capabilities of the Goblins. But it was the motif of a Goblin slaying a Dragon that the door showed that held Harry's attention.

If the High King of the Goblin Nation slew a dragon, he would be quite the formidable foe. A foe Harry had no intention of fighting if he could help it.

Harry knew he just knew he'd end up insulting someone of the Goblin Nation that day. If it wasn't because a human had visited the High King, then it would be because of what would happen next. Harry could already see the event playing out in his mind. His gut tightened a bit. He wished he brought the Harvester with him.

Dust cawed lightly on his shoulder and he patted his familiar on his head. "This might be it." He whispered to Dust softly.

The doors were opened to lead into a breathtakingly opulent room. Literally rivers of silver flowed through the two sides of the room. A lava flow spilled behind the High King's obsidian throne. The entire room was one massive mural, with the walls and ceilings having depictions literally carved from the wall in a mix of sculptures and paintings.

The honor guards stood at attention in uniformed black armor. They didn't so much as even look in Harry's direction as he passed. The shields all bore the symbol of a dragon, making Harry wonder if it perhaps was the symbol of the High King's clan. Harry found himself distinctly needing lessons in Goblin culture. Though, it didn't take an expert to note the silver crafted bearded axes that each and every one of those two dozen Goblins held would cut through his flesh at the order of their High King.

A Goblin stood beside the throne, red beady eyes staring hatefully at Harry. He could only hope the High King understood English. If they had to communicate between one another through this Goblin, Harry was likely dead. But if he was going to die because of a miscommunication, he was going to be seriously pissed off.

It was the Goblin sitting on the throne though that got Harry's attention. Broad and massive for a Goblin, High King Ragnarokk looked every bit the warrior he was. A bearded axe made of silver sat resting at his side, but Harry could also see the hilt of a sword at the Goblin's waist as well. There was no crown to this Goblin, having no need for such decorations. Instead, he wore a highly polished silver helmet.

"Bow." Gringott said out of the corner of his mouth as he took a bow.

It was the moment of truth. Harry clasped his hands behind his back and put his feet together. He noticed eyes narrow on him and Gringott whisper something, but for the time being he ignored it. He stared right at Ragnarokk.

Ragnarokk spoke in the harsh tongue that was the Goblin's native language. "You stand in the presence of the High King human." The Translator spoke. "You should be bowing."

"No." Harry said. At this one word, he could have heard a pin drop. The slow gurgle of molten rock and silver flowing in the room was heard, but Harry stood firm.

Ragnarokk spoke once more, sitting up a little straighter in his throne. "The High King could have your vaults depleted, your body drawn and quartered, given to a dragon for a chew toy, he could even have you shoveling Dragon droppings for the rest of your life. Do you still refuse to bow?"

Harry squared his shoulders and held his head higher. "I will not bow." He said.

Ragnarokk spoke some more. "Wars have started for lesser insults Human."

"I will still not bow." Harry said. His stomach sank a bit, thinking of his fellow students, forced to fight in a war that he caused. He was stubborn, he knew. But this was not something he would yield on.

The Translator looked hopeful, expecting an order for human blood to be spilled. When Ragnarokk spoke, he clearly had Harry's sentence on the tip of his tongue. When the word's registered, shock appeared on his face and he turned to stare at the High King. "The High King wants to know why." The translator said after a moment of being held under the glare of the High King.

Harry didn't look hopeful, though he could feel it swelling in his chest. He viciously squashed the feeling though. He needed to focus now. "I am the Pale Rider." Harry said. 'I am the Avatar of Death, waiting for the Seven Seals to break and unleash the Apocalypse." Harry stood just a little bit straighter as he stared into the eyes of the High King.

"Death Bows to no one. Goblin, Wizard, Muggle, or otherwise, Death does not yield. Death does not submit. Death does not wait." Harry said. This was a non-negotiable point. Even if it got him killed there that day, he would go down holding true to his convictions. "This is no disrespect to you Ragnarokk, High King of the Goblin Nation. No disrespect to your title, your race, your deeds, or your combat prowess. But Death does not Bow."

He had expected an order for his head to come off. He expected the last Potter in existence to get killed without mercy. He would even have accepted it. He did, arguably, just insult a King in his domain.

What he did not expect, was for Ragnarokk to bust out laughing, causing even his Honor guards to jump and turn to look at him. Ragnarokk spoke, but this time it was in English. "And will you, Pale One, be the one to kill me in the end?" Ragnarokk wore a twisted smirk.

"No." Harry said bluntly. "I will be there in the end, by your side as a brother and friend. I will be the one you speak your last words to as I shepherd you into the next world where you will be judged for your actions in this one."

Ragnarokk burst out laughing again. "You have stones of purest diamond Pale One. Why have you been brought before me?"

"There is a Horcrux inside of Gringotts, in one of the older vaults that are apparently protected by treaties. However, as High King of the Goblin Nation." Harry said and saw a general swing of Ragnarokk's mood go from humorous, to downright furious.

"There is a foul abomination like that in Goblin Property?" he snarled. "Lead me there."

Harry nodded. "I wish to witness its purge or destruction. I brought another before Gringotts in the hope that it would be destroyed."

Ragnarokk rose from his throne and began to make his way to Harry and Gringott. "Know this, Pale One, if you are lying, I shall take your head from your shoulders and use it to for sport."

Harry turned and began to walk away. The entire contingent of Honor Guards stepped around them, though Harry knew he was leading. The mine cart even expanded onto more of a moving platform to accommodate fifteen Goblins and Harry.

Harry led the way into the tunnels when he felt the dragon again. Only this time, there was a rattling from the Goblins, rattling and clanking and the dragon began to move away.

Harry stepped out at the word of the High King, looking upon the vault. He could feel the foulness of the Horcrux inside. The High King barked at Gringott and the Director moved forward. With a wave of his hand, the vault door began to open.

"The enchantments have been taken off Mr. Potter." Gringott said.

Harry stepped into the vault, ignoring all the gold and following his senses. Dust cawed slightly as he kept walking, so he reached up and petted the crow. 'It's okay." He told Dust.

Harry yanked his knife out of the sheath and moved up a pile of gold slowly. He hooked the knife around the handle of the Cup and found himself quite angry. He was no fool, able to recognize the markings of Helga Hufflepuff on the cup.

Carefully, so that the cup did not touch his skin, Harry made his way back down to the Director and the High King, holding the cup out balanced on his knife.

Gringott set to work, checking that it was indeed a Horcrux before spitting out a foul curse, confirming that it indeed was one.

Ragnarokk looked to the cup, then to Harry. "You will be rewarded for this Pale One. The contents of every Lestrange Vault shall be placed within the Potter Vaults." Ragnarokk said. 'And I will grant one boon if it is within my power to do so."

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, wanting to groan about the added monies that he was going to have to get catalogued and started moving once more. But he then looked over to Ragnarokk. "Can I get an I.O.U. on that? At the moment, I'm not even sure what to ask for."

Ragnarokk inclined his head before he turned on his heel and began to lead his contingent of Honor guards away.

Harry was taken by Gringott to watch the purging or destruction of both Horcruxes.

It had been a busy day.

-_Scene Break-_

Unbeknownst to those in Gringotts, faraway in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at the precise moment of the destruction of both Horcruxes, a man wearing a turban dropped dead, his Master forcefully ejecting from his body from the agony of having the soul even more damaged.

Chapter End

A/N: Been a busy past few days doing some moving and cleaning. But I probably won't be posting for about a week. I'm going to be working on Borderlands 2 again.

Bye

Hunter Berserker Wolf


	12. Chapter 12

Book 1

Chapter 12

The second the Floo spat both Harry and Flitwick out back at Hogwarts, Harry knew something was wrong. There was a lingering feel and a slight hum along his senses. Death had occurred inside of Hogwarts once more. And the human death had charged the Hogwarts wards much more than what the Troll Death had done.

He also noticed that the hole that Flitwick had blasted into the floor had been repaired.

"Let's head on down to dinner Harry. I had not expected to be gone that long." Flitwick said before he began to make his way out of his office.

Harry followed the short Charms Master. "Professor, do you feel that?" he asked. The hum of the powerful wards had to be singing to Flitwick, and yet he was acting like there was nothing going on.

"Harry, if I know Albus, then he will announce what happened at dinner. It would give him plenty of time to spin the story properly to not cause panic, and undoubtedly get the Aurors involved. Even Albus doesn't play around with the loss of a human life." Flitwick said as he made his way down the stairs.

Harry nodded and he glanced to the box he carried with him. Depending on Dumbledore's announcement, Harry would have to put off his own announcement until the morning when it would be a better time.

Harry entered the Great Hall and took his seat, noticing that many people were whispering to one another and hardly paying attention to the late arrival of Professor Flitwick and himself. Harry quickly found his usual seat and began to get some of the food to eat.

He glanced to a Prefect and leaned over slightly. "What's the whispering about?" Harry asked in a low tone. Hogwarts just loved to gossip and the rumor mill was legendary.

"They're saying Professor Quirrel died." The Prefect said in a low voice. "And Professor Dumbledore is confirming it with the Aurors on what happened. Apparently a sixth year went to ask Quirrel a question and found him. She hasn't been seen since, so I think she might have been taken for questioning."

Harry nodded slowly and went back to his food. He was thoughtful as he thought about the development of Quirrel dying. It was such an interesting thing to have happened, especially after the destruction of two Horcruxes. It was suspicious even.

"Aren't you upset about it?" One of the other Prefects asked.

Harry paused for a moment before shaking his head. "Not in the slightest." He said honestly. "Death is a natural progression. It's not something to be feared, nor is it something to be sought. Death comes for all of us eventually. Be it twenty seconds from now, or two hundred years from now, we will all eventually breathe our last. I will make the most of my life. I won't celebrate Quirrel's death, but I won't act like it's the end of the world." It may have been a harsh thing to say, but Harry was suspicious of the death. It was hard to keep that suspicion out of his thoughts.

Harry ignored his fellow Ravenclaws. Unfortunately, being the Avatar of Death would make him take a much more logical approach towards the subject and idea of the death of the Professor. He had heard many students say that he was a good Professor, if he could just spit out what he was trying to say.

Harry wasn't entirely sure himself.

He glanced along the staff table, pausing at the sight of the newest Professor, a man that was infinitely better than his predecessor. Professor Alexander Kross was the new History of Magic Professor. The first thing he had them all do was take a test on what they should have known so he could better teach everyone what they needed to know.

Interestingly enough, Professor Kross wasn't much older than the students were. Harry generally dismissed him when he glanced up at the staff table to be honest. Professor Kross wasn't focused on Goblin Rebellions or Giant Wars. Unfortunately for him, there just wasn't anything particularly memorable about him. He had also announced that he was only going to finish out the year with them.

It did lead the question to what Dumbledore was going to do about a replacement for Defense Against the Dark Arts for the rest of the year. They hadn't even made it to the Holidays yet and they needed a new one, which apparently was a new record according to the older students. None of the previous Professors had died thankfully.

Dumbledore came in through a side entrance and the murmurs going about the Great Hall all died down as he made his way towards a podium. The Headmaster seemed to be showing his years as he placed both hands on the sides of the podium, looking down to it.

"It is regrettably my duty to inform all of you of the passing of Professor Quirinus Quirrel. It would seem the dear Professor had been possessed by a malignant spirit. At this time, it is unknown whether it was a willing or unwilling possession. However, given the manner of his passing, it is believed that Professor Quirrel had been unwillingly possessed, and that he had thrown off the malignant spirit which took his life in the process." Dumbledore said, his face still showing his age in the matter. "We cannot determine if this possession has occurred recently and gotten through the many Wards of Hogwarts, or if Professor Quirrel brought the spirit in with him. Let us give a moment of silence for the deceased."

Harry's eyes narrowed a bit as Dumbledore spoke. He stayed quiet, but his green eyes shined a bit as the gears in his head turned. He calmed himself a bit as he remembered that he didn't have enough facts to make any conclusions, even though he had a few ideas of the truth of what happened.

The Spirit that had possessed Quirrel was no spirit, rather a fragment of a soul. The same soul had resided inside of two Horcruxes that had been purged earlier that day. Because the Soul Fragment that had possessed Quirrel was not anchored to the man in the way it would have been to a Horcrux, the Soul Fragment had felt the destruction of the other two Soul Fragments, causing it absolute agony and forcing it to eject violently from Quirrel.

Or at least, that was Harry's theory. So it meant there were more Horcruxes out there as well as the Soul Fragment that was on the loose. Dust let a small caw out, something that was heard throughout the Great Hall.

Harry gently shushed Dust. He knew what the crow was thinking as he stroked its beak. Harry would be there to destroy whoever it was that had created those foul pieces of magic. He would be brutal, he would be effective, and he would be absolute in his destruction of them and their creator.

He was the Pale Rider after all.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry found himself at the entrance to the Come and Go Room. He bit the tip of his tongue as he thought about the room. He could tell the room had wonderful potential to be more; the question was how did he tap into that potential.

Harry began to pace before the entrance. He kept his mind clear, so the door never showed up. Instead, he just watched it as he paced back and forth. Finally, he began to slow his steps and think, walking back and forth slowly once more.

On the third pass, the door appeared and Harry paused. He inhaled slowly before he opened it. His amazement began to show as he closed the door behind him. The room had tailored itself to what he needed.

It was Harry's opinion that the room had been crafted by a master of many arts. It was the only possible explanation to it. Conjuration, Illusion, Summoning, many forms of magic went into the creation of the room, and it showed in what shape the room took on this time.

It was a circular room, dominated by book shelves and a circular center table. Three quarters of the room went unfinished, barren and blank. The book shelves were empty of books, just waiting to be filled.

The last quarter of the room was done in bronze and blue, the color of Ravenclaw. However the banner behind the ivory throne, seemingly carved from bones, was the same symbol as what was on Harry's parachute, a crow atop a skull with its wings spread wide.

Harry's portion of the room was done in bones and skulls. A goblet sat upon his portion of the table, it was in the shape of a skull with a crown carved along the top. It looked like a skull that had been scalped, meaning it was designed to be drunk from. Harry lifted it up by the handle, done to look like a portion of the spinal column.

Harry looked at it with a bit of distaste. If it was an actual skull, carved into a goblet then there room was a bit more macabre than he had imagined. However, upon a bit of study he determined that it was wooden inlaid with bits of metal and not made from bone.

Still, Harry doubted he would be drinking from it any time soon.

Harry moved over to the bookshelves and began to go over the thick tomes slowly. A few he would have to find a translation spell for.

A soft rustle of paper brought his attention to the table behind him. He picked up the parchment that appeared on the table and found it to be a translation Spell. Harry decided to put it on the bookshelf and continue looking over the books.

He found books on Fire Magic, Ice Magic, Water Magic, Earth Magic, Gravity Magic, Charms, Transfiguration, Alchemy, Conjuration, Illusions, Potions, Hexes, Curses, Jinxes, and even Death Magic and Ritual magic.

It was a room that Harry could perform all of his studies within without a single soul being able to tell. He could learn elemental magic, ritual magic, and enchanting magic. It was frankly simply amazing how many things had been lost inside of this room over the years.

Best of all, Harry thought he recognized a few tomes of the Founders themselves.

He went to sit in the throne like chair and found the black cushion running along the seat and the back was actually quite comfortable. He could probably lose himself in studying for hours in that chair if he thought it would be necessary. The room opened up so many beautiful options for him that he couldn't wait until he had more time to properly begin to work on everything that it had to offer.

Harry's mind was once more brought to the blood red stone in his trunk. He glanced up to the room. "A book on magical stones?" he asked hopefully.

There was a thud on the table in front of him.

Harry glanced down to the thick tome and began to flip through it. The book was informative about magical stones. He glanced to the spine, wondering who it was authored by. Unfortunately the name didn't ring any bells so he kept working.

Thankfully, the author had gotten a picture of almost every single one of the stones, and the ones he didn't have a picture of, Harry had a description to work with. He managed to cut it down to one of two stones.

It was either a Djinn control stone or the Philosopher's Stone. If it was the Djinn Control Stone, he should have been approached by someone with the offer of granting wishes already. As good as that sounded, the price for the wishes would be his eternal soul and bringing Hell on Earth. While he could, technically, do that as the Pale Rider, Harry's own morals told him that it would be a bad idea.

So, since he hadn't been approached by a man offering to grant Harry's wishes that left him with the next most likely candidate, the Philosopher's Stone.

While the idea of alchemically being able to turn any metal into gold, permanent gold for that matter, appealed to him, he knew that having the stone was dangerous. It brought the question of what it was doing in a school full of children to his brain. Sure, there were impressive warding schemes set up around Hogwarts, especially since the Death Wards had received a powerful charge in the past few months.

He knew Dumbledore had done work with Nicolas Flamel in the past, so there was no doubt in Harry's mind on how Dumbledore had gotten the Stone. Perhaps the more pertinent question was instead why the stone wasn't with Flamel anymore. Did Dumbledore perhaps convince Flamel that the Stone would be safer with him? Was Flamel getting too old to be able to properly protect the stone?

The stone was worth entirely too much to simply destroy it, and that was not even taking into account the monetary value of it. Returning it to Flamel was a priority though. But how to keep it hidden until such a time presented itself? Ideally he wanted a place that no one would ever look, but he could retrieve once it was time to return it to Flamel.

Hearing Dust's caw of a suggestion had Harry's blood run cold, but the crow was indeed correct. That suggestion would work.

It was also a test from Dust and Harry was smart enough to know that.

-_Scene Break-_

One week, it had been one week since Quirrel's passing and Harry's subsequent time inside of the Come and Go Room. One week since he discovered that he held the Philosopher's Stone inside of his trunk and Dust's test.

Dust had eventually given Harry a choice that night. Take the test, and when Harry passed, Dust would assist in Harry's training even more, pushing him further and further. Or to not take the test and Harry would only get scraps of information as Harry figured them out for himself.

It had kept him awake, knowing the sheer agony of what Dust was telling him to do. In fact, it terrified him more than his claustrophobia. He didn't know how to do what Dust was asking of him by magical or mundane means. It meant Harry would have to desperately follow what the room would give him.

Harry peaked inside a classroom on the second floor. He had taken to walking around for a few hours each night to clear his head and think on what Dust was proposing.

Dust, when he had first gone to Harry, helped suppress Harry's emotions. There was a lot of anger, a lot of rage to him. Given how much they leaked through even suppressed told Harry just how much rage and anger he had. But by suppressing Harry's emotions, he didn't have them to get in the way of logical decisions. Eventually Dust would unleash his emotions when Harry had a better grasp on them, which would eventually include better Occlumency barriers.

For this task, Dust had unshackled his emotions so that he could feel the full range and depth of them. It added to the difficulty of the test that Dust had wanted him to perform, and it was causing Harry doubts. Logically, he already knew that it was the best decision, the best option.

Unfortunately, it would be performed without any form of help or supervision. It would be all Harry, which meant it was all him whether or not he failed. There was also no 'try' in this instance. It was do or do not just as there would be in any other situation.

Harry inhaled as he entered another classroom, pushing those thoughts from his mind as he came across a beautiful mirror inside the room. There were a few aged supplies under dust and cobwebs, placed in crates long forgotten. Harry opened one of those crates, wincing as he heard the creaking of the aged wood.

He pulled out a heavy book and blew on it slightly, pushing the dust off of it. It was a book on enchanting. All of the books were. Harry glanced to the mirror and looked to the top. _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _was inscribed upon the top. It took him a moment to read it. "I show not your face but your heart's desire?" he asked in a slight whisper.

Harry centered himself in front of the mirror and looked into it. He jumped slightly at what he saw. The book clattered to the floor.

The Four Riders were in the Mirror in full Rider Regalia and on top of their horses. But there was more to it than that. The three missing Riders had their faces hidden from view, obscuring them completely. A woman sat behind him atop Despair and another woman sat behind Famine atop of Disaster.

"Curious thing, is it not Mr. Potter?"

Harry spun around, his knife and wand coming out to bear down upon Dumbledore behind him who held both hands up to show he was without his wand. Harry felt incredibly stupid and put his wand and knife away.

Drawing weapons upon and unarmed old man? Shame on him.

"Any guess on what it shows?" Dumbledore asked, stepping forward with both hands at his side now. "A hint, Mr. Potter, it would show a man who has everything he could ever want absolutely nothing. It would be a regular mirror for him. But for you, who have never known family, it shows you that which you sorely desire."

"Do not presume to tell me what I see." Harry said looking into the blue eyes of the Headmaster, those blue eyes that had lost their sparkle. He was a bit snappish, but he wasn't sure if it was because of Dumbledore being there or because of his unshackled emotions.

"My sincerest apologies Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, sounding contrite. Though, if it was an act, Harry wasn't entirely certain on it. "May I ask what it is that you see then?"

"That's a personal question Headmaster. I believe we have already gone over that ground quite thoroughly." Harry said. "Unless you plan to share what it is that you see when looking into the mirror."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he placed a hand on the smooth surface of the mirror. His face held such longing. Dumbledore sighed softly. "I am old Mr. Potter, so very old. I have done so many things in this long life of mine that I don't even know where to begin to describe the wonders and amazement. But having done a great deal of many things, many of them good, I have also done some… horrible things." Dumbledore's eyes closed as he heaved a sigh.

"I see perhaps my greatest regret staring back at me from the mirror, Harry." Dumbledore turned to look at Harry his eyes open once more. "I see my sister Ariana and my brother Aberforth looking back at me. A family broken by the actions of others, and our parents' actions, whole once more. I see my family, broken by my own actions, whole once more. I see them forgiving me for being a young boy full of ambitions and foolish ideals.

"I fear with Ariana's death that is but a pipe dream however. At least until I go onto the next great adventure that is death. Aberforth is another story however, and while my brother is civil with me, I know better than to believe he has forgiven me. Something I am reminded of every day I look in the mirror." Dumbledore said, tapping his crooked nose with one long finger.

Harry looked to Dumbledore for a while before he glanced once more to the mirror. "I see myself, a wife, a brother, two sisters, and a sister-in-law. Not the children of James and Lily Potter, no, I see a family brought together by bonds far greater than blood. I cannot see their faces, so I do not know their identities."

"Then how do you know they are family?" Dumbledore queried.

Harry might have been willing to discuss what he saw in the mirror, but he was still unwilling to discuss what was expected of him later in life with Dumbledore. "I just do." He said simply. "Does this Mirror show the Future? Because I would not have expected a wife and a Sister-in-law to be included in the reflection if it does not."

Dumbledore stared to the mirror for a while. "I daresay that it is a distinct possibility that it does show the future in certain cases. But it will be something you have to work for to obtain."

Harry nodded slightly understanding what Dumbledore was saying. It meant he'd have to work to find a wife.

Dumbledore then turned to face Harry once more. "I will be moving this mirror. I beseech you to not go looking for it Mr. Potter. If you find it again, I have no doubt you will know what to do." Dumbledore said.

Harry shook his head slightly. "I never know if you're a great master manipulator, or an old man that tries to do the best he can, but fails ever so slightly and so you cling with your fingertips. Every time I think you're an old man, that I can trust you, you go and do or say something that feels like you're manipulating me, especially with having your fingers in every pie you can." Harry shook his head and turned walking out of the room.

Dumbledore sighed slightly as he heard Harry's words. They cut right to his old heart. He never meant to come across as a manipulative individual. He knew he had a silver tongue; it had gotten him in and out of a fair bit of trouble in his youth with Gellert.

He rose to political prominence using that silver tongue to try and have the betterment of everyone. Not just Wizards either. He admitted to having some prejudice against Muggles in his youth. After their assault on Ariana, he could never seem to like Muggles again. He had rather seen Wizards rise to triumph, even if it meant climbing over the broken bodies of Muggles everywhere. If it meant bygones were left to be bygones, then so be it also.

Then he remembered being in Berlin. He and other wizards were going to put an end to Gellert's reign of terror. An explosion toppled the roof over their head, and Dumbledore was the only survivor of the group of six. Debris had pinned his legs down in a bad way, crushed his hand also so he could not retrieve his wand.

He had expected to die there.

But out of nowhere, a group of Muggle Soldiers, fighting the Nazi Regime had come and freed him from the debris. Dumbledore had been carried on the shoulders of a young man, barely older than the graduating class of Hogwarts at the time. He had been carried back behind the Allied lines to a medical tent.

Oddly enough, the scar he got from the incident was a perfect map of the London Underground just above his knee.

But it had completely changed him. Here was the good, the very best that the Muggles had to offer. It had been like a slap in the face to his jadedness. So for the past fifty years, he had been dedicated to promoting equality between all races: Goblins, Centaurs, Wizards, House Elves, and even Muggles. It was a hard and bitter battle that he fought politically against some of the most stubborn minds.

He had hoped, originally, that young Tom Riddle would become a sort of heir to his work because it was not work that he would see blossom into the beautiful thing that he was certain it could become. To see Tom fall so far off to the side had been like a dagger laying open an old wound to his heart where Gellert had lain.

He turned to look at the Mirror of Erised. He remembered the crafting of it. A young Seer he had taken Enchantment Classes with. In fact, the Mirror had been a collaboration between the two of them shortly after Ariana's death. It had earned both of them mastery in Enchanting.

Sadly, the class had long since fallen out of curriculum at Hogwarts. Enchanting was hard, expensive work. In order to properly appreciate it, students had to have more money than they knew what to do with, or an appreciation for taking things slow and fully studying things in such great depth that they would be lucky to make their deadline.

It, like many courses, had been drummed out of Hogwarts. Once, the castle had been THE Center of Magical Learning. Each and every classroom, filled to the brim, Hogwarts had been splendid once. Unfortunately, it had fallen slowly as magical blood began to wane and thin due to inbreeding amongst the purebloods.

Even those with many children, like Arthur and Molly Weasley, had weaker magical children. Dumbledore himself had been extraordinary in his power, yes, but there had been stronger than him back when he walked the hallowed halls wearing red and gold. But magical power had begun to dwindle down.

He stared at the bright blue eyes of Ariana within the Mirror. It was the only way he could remember the way life sparkled in those eyes. It was either that or the portrait that hung in his office that Ariana traveled to and from.

He had been tempted to tell Harry that what he saw was himself holding a pair of wooly socks. But he had a feeling that such a thing would have been taken as a lie instead of the half-truth that it was. And while he could tell Harry hadn't been entirely true with him on what Harry had seen in the Mirror, he wasn't going to risk the possible relationship between him and the young Potter Heir over something like that.

In fact, the wooly socks he saw himself holding were a pair that the Ariana in the Mirror had knit. How he longed for such a simple thing as wooly socks knit by his sister. He sighed softly and drew his wand, charming the tiles that sat underneath the Mirror to rise and follow him.

He began to walk the mirror towards his office, thinking over the events of the pass few days. Tom's presence in the castle had been an absolute surprise and shock to him. Finding out that he had possessed Quirinus had been just a shock.

It made him wonder if things would have been different had he taken Tom's application to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor all those years ago. Would Tom have given up the quest to be Voldemort if he had been in a position of teaching inside Hogwarts? Would Tom have found love of his own?

These sorts of questions plagued Dumbledore's mind and were forced to the surface with the recent actions. He had been absolutely stunned at how well Quirinus had been teaching Defense. Despite the stuttering and the smell of Garlic in the classroom, Quirinus had been one of the better teachers at Defense.

Then again, he had been possessed by Tom. Tom, for all his faults, had delved deep into the Dark Arts and learned all he could about them to keep himself protected so another wouldn't use them against him. And so he began to pass that knowledge down towards his students.

Perhaps Dumbledore had been a bit hasty in declining Tom's application to be the Defense Professor.

But the truth was that Dumbledore had been afraid. He had been afraid that if Tom had been a Professor, eventually he would have become Headmaster. And as Headmaster, he would have been a very influential figure to the students.

Muggleborn wouldn't even be allowed inside of the school which would have broken the charter of the school. Hogwarts would have then gone into lockdown on itself until the situation was rectified and not even the Headmaster would have been able to gain access.

The Founders had sworn that Hogwarts would be a school of Equal opportunity, regardless of bloodline and nobility. Unfortunately, those traits had begun to dim in recent years.

Then there was Harry, those thoughts also plagued and ate at Dumbledore. The boy was voracious in his pursuit of knowledge. Poppy had come to him several times, praising the boy's abilities at potion making. She would assign him a potion to research for their coming class, and by their next class he was ready to brew it. In all honesty, Horace was jealous that Poppy got to keep Harry.

Dumbledore couldn't really force Harry to attend Horace's class either. Not until the next year, but Dumbledore wasn't even sure if he wanted to do something like that. It would undoubtedly alienate Harry even further from him.

Fillius and Minerva were no less generous with their praise. The same could almost be said for Pomona. Harry was good at the theoretically, but the fact of the matter was he had no practical talent for Herbology, so he often paired with someone that did in fact have the practical talent.

But Dumbledore remembered a young Tom Riddle being the same way. Voracious in his pursuit of knowledge and not vigilant enough. It ended with a young and brilliant mind being swayed to the Dark Arts. If Harry begun to gather followers, then Dumbledore wasn't entirely certain how he would survive the heart attack. The parallels between him and Tom were astounding if Dumbledore was honest.

Then there was also Harry's crow, Dust. Dumbledore was surprised that Harry had a familiar, but a crow was generally associated with Death. It worried Dumbledore slightly. Especially with his owl having the name of Ashes.

Perhaps he was over thinking things, but he couldn't help it. He remembered James and Lily, both bright people and very happy, always laughing and smiling. In comparison, Harry was rather serious and even a touch withdrawn. The only time Dumbledore had seen him smiling had been when he had gotten out of the Black Lake after having jumped off of Hogwarts.

Aberforth had said he owed a drink to Harry for making Dumbledore worry so much. His brother was always looking for ways to get under his skin.

Dumbledore took the secret passage way to the end of where the Stone was being kept. His Professors were masters in their field, yet he knew if someone was determined enough to get through, then they would. Unfortunately, Dumbledore couldn't go back and change the charms, enchantments, and various other spells the Professors had put on the various rooms without threatening to destabilize the entire thing.

He was debating getting the Professors back down there to better shore the defenses on the Stone.

Dumbledore entered the Stone's chamber and felt his blood freeze. He moved over to the pedestal as quickly as he could, his heart pounding in his chest.

The Philosopher's Stone was missing.

-End Chapter-

A/N: A little later than I had intended, but I hope it's still well received. I'm aiming for at least a 100k words to this story so I have another eight or so chapters to go, so we're slowly winding up.

Next chapter we have what Dust has planned for the Harry and the Stone.

Also, as an author, this story is a pain in the ass. I get ideas for the later books when I'm still working on this freaking story.


	13. Chapter 13

Book 1

Chapter 13

Hindsight… It was a cruel thing to consider. When Dumbledore had first placed the Philosopher's Stone in the Third Floor corridor, he had planned to put several tracking and alarm wards around it so that he would be notified immediately of someone removing it. Unfortunately, he had gotten an important letter from the International Confederation of Wizards that had drawn his attention away from Hogwarts around the same time, so he had put off putting Wards up on the Stone.

It made Dumbledore wonder if there was indeed any truth to the words of those questioning whether he was stretched too thin or not.

He had brought the Stone to the castle for safe keeping and studying. He had never intended for any but a select few to be in the know about the Stone. He had in fact had to work on Nicolas for the past thirty years to let him study the Stone for Alchemic purposes. The Alchemist was quite… concerned when it came to the Stone.

It left Dumbledore in quite the precarious situation. He would have to own up to his mistake and contact Nicolas immediately. If Dumbledore knew his mentor like he thought he did, Nicolas would explode at the mention of the Stone being missing.

As he sat at his desk, mulling over its losses and how best he could reclaim the Stone, he knew that there would be no flowery writing that would save him from Nicolas' anger. Undoubtedly the acclaimed Alchemist would come to Scotland to handle the issue himself.

He tied the letter to Fawkes' talon. "Take it to Nicolas." He told the phoenix and watched it begin to wing off before it flashed away in fire.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair a bit, stroking his beard as he thought about what to do next. Nicolas would be incensed at the loss of the Stone, so Dumbledore would have to come up with a method of finding it.

Using the House Elves to check the students' trunks was out of the question. That was, purely, an invasion of privacy that he would not put the students through. Using the Sorting Hat was also out, if the student did take it then the Hat would be forced to keep quiet about it as that was an invasion of their privacy.

Legilimency was also right out. That was a bomb waiting to go off with the Board of Governors.

Bringing the Aurors in to investigate the matter would certainly be possible, except he would have to explain why he had a dangerous Cerberus in the school, as well as a Mountain Troll. Guarding the Stone would only carry so far as an excuse.

Perhaps just asking the students when Nicolas came by. Surely they would understand the right of ownership that Nicolas could claim.

Dumbledore removed his half-moon speckled glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. How could something like this have happened? Perhaps Aberforth had the right idea in being a simple bartender. Then he just had to worry about getting the drinks right.

But Dumbledore would never settle for that. His calling was doing the work that he was currently doing already. This was going to be another one of those moments he would regret for the rest of his life undoubtedly. He had failed in this one endeavor, and angered a friend. He had failed that friend when he gave promise after promise that he would be able to keep the Stone safe.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry had skipped breakfast. The images of the other Riders from the night before in that Mirror made him think and finally decide to go through with what Dust had offered as a possibility for the Stone. But first, he wanted to stop by that classroom once more.

While the Mirror was indeed missing, he wasn't after a second glimpse. He had a glimpse of his deepest desire, the future that he was working towards. He didn't need that reaffirmed. Instead, he picked up the Enchanting book from the night before and tucked it into his bag.

He inhaled deeply as he made his way up towards Come and Go Room. This was terrifying to him. Dust was with him, but quite silent on the matter. So Harry had no one to talk to about what he was about to do. He reached into his back and slid his fingers around the smooth surfaces of the Philosopher's Stone.

The chance to study it was something he would give a small fortune for. Unfortunately, he would be unable to do so. Studying it would risk it being exposed and until he could find a way to get it back to Nicolas Flamel, he wasn't going to risk it. It had to stay in the safest spot he could come up with.

He walked before the wall to the Come and Go room. He inhaled deeply and put his hand shakily on the door knob. He twisted slowly and stepped in. He closed the door and set about locking it from the inside, even going as far as putting a bar over the door so that no one could enter.

He turned to look at the operating table and swallowed slightly. It had everything he needed. His body felt heavy as he stepped towards it. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and Harry knew that he was terrified. He was absolutely terrified to the very depths of his body.

There was only one safe place as far as Harry was concerned, one place that he would know about at all times. A place that he could hide the Philosopher's Stone until he got it back to Nicolas Flamel.

It was inside of him.

He was not a Doctor who went through years of training to be able to cut people open. He was not a Medical Wizard who went through years of training to know the spells and potions to keep someone alive. He was not even Pestilence who would have a natural understanding of the human body and how it worked.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, stopping him from turning around and leaving the room. This was not the logic and intelligence of a Ravenclaw peeking through. But it was the Cunning of a Slytherin. It was the Bravery of a Gryffindor.

It was a stupid and yet brilliant idea that he could only attribute to Dust for coming up with. Most spells and wards wouldn't look any deeper than the surface of the skin. They just weren't designed to do otherwise. If a spell was designed to do otherwise, it could come up with a false reading on an artificial heart that a Muggle or Muggleborn might have.

Not very reliable as the Muggles came up with more and more interesting ways to keep someone alive.

Harry could not take this before a trained medical professional. That was inviting entirely too many problems. Medical Professionals tended to ask questions that Harry really couldn't answer. Any Medical Witch or Wizard would recognize him as Harry Potter, and mundane doctors would be curious as to why an eleven year old wanted a stone the size of a plum put inside of his body.

Harry set the Philosopher's Stone onto the table with the other supplies. The room supplied him with all of his needs in the form of a scalpel, four potions, a needle and thread to stitch himself up, some metal wire to secure the stone with, tweezers for pulling the wire with, cotton swabs with some rubbing alcohol, and a pair of tongs.

Harry shook a little bit as he read the directions, pages taken from books, of each of the potions that the Come and Go Room had supplied him with. Logically, he understood the test that Dust had given him. It was a test of his resolve. How far would he be willing to go to accomplish the task at hand? Could he steady his resolve?

Harry knew that if it was not for Dust muting his emotions, then he would have had more issues than he knew what to do with. He would have mentally broken down from his childhood a long time ago. Unfortunately, that same muting of the emotions caused Harry to be unable to properly let his past go. He could never quite forget the abuse he suffered mostly at the hands of a drunk Vernon.

Harry knew there were some suppressed memories that were just begging to come to the surface. It was just another thing that he would deal with once he could find the other Riders. If they couldn't help, then he could undoubtedly go to a mundane psychologist or something.

So many things to do, so little time unfortunately.

Harry removed his top, and after a thought also removed his pants. He folded them both and neatly put them away. Inhaling softly, he laid on the operating table and moved the tray of supplies to his lower abdomen and his upper thighs. He started with the potions.

The first potion would numb his senses. A dangerous thing given that was operating on himself, but he wasn't certain if he could cut himself open while feeling every drag of the scalpel. It would only last a total of thirty minutes, so he would have to work fast.

The second potion was for blood loss. It was to be taken before the procedure so that the body would know the proper amount of blood to produce. Taking it after the procedure could leave a person with not enough blood which could be just as dangerous as what Harry was about to attempt.

The third potion was a Calming Draught. While Harry couldn't feel a thing, it didn't mean his hands weren't shaking quite badly. He needed to have a steady hand for what he was about to attempt. Even the slightest mishap could see him dying in that room.

Harry got the alcohol and doused it on the cotton swab before starting to sterilize the area he was cutting. He was starting his cut down and slightly left of his left nipple. The mirror to the side let him see the length of area that he was going to cut open. It did nothing for his nerves, even if his hands were steady. He could feel the panic that wanted to creep in, but was kept back by the potions.

Harry quickly secured the stone in a relatively simple makeshift pouch of the metal wire. He didn't want to try and tie the knots while he was bleeding onto the table. When he was certain that he could do no more prep, he inhaled a little bit more and picked up the scalpel in his right hand.

There were so many ways for this to go wrong. The thought ran a chill down his spine and he gripped the scalpel a little tighter. For a brief moment, Harry thought about being a normal eleven year old, where he wasn't cutting into himself to hide a magical Stone.

Unfortunately, normal had waved goodbye to the Potter Heir a long time ago. He inhaled slightly and started the incision into his body. He didn't feel anything past the press of the blade. The surgical steel was sharp and parting his skin with hardly an effort. Blood began to spill down his side from the wound.

Harry was officially on the clock.

He felt a coolness wash over him, like he finally accepted what he was going to do. Even still, he wasn't going to rush this. He set the scalpel down and used the pair of tongs to gently lift the skin and take a look underneath and into his own body.

Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at too well. He knew his internal organs took up a vast majority of the space of his abdomen, but that wasn't the only thing showing. There were also layers of muscle and fat that he had sliced through. For a brief moment, a thought of cutting too deep ran through his mind, but it was entirely too late now.

Harry picked up the Philosopher's Stone and situated it inside of his body, just above his kidney. He had to use his hands to gently nudge his organs a bit to make enough room for the irregularly shaped Stone, but soon enough it was firmly inside of him, enveloped behind layers of organ tissue. He took the metal wire and led it up along his ribs.

Using the tweezers and the scalpel, he gently freed some of the meat from the ribs. Not a lot, just enough to use the tweezers to draw the wire up under the ribs. At the fifth set of ribs from the bottom, Harry quickly tied the metal wire around the bone, making sure it was secure before cutting the excess off with the scalpel.

Harry then grabbed the thread and needle and went to work sewing himself up. He knew it was not a perfect job. He would likely have a scar for the rest of his life reminding him the lengths to which he went to protect the Stone until he could get it returned to his owner.

Harry moved his bloody hands to the last potion. Just before he could take a pull of it, the full realization of what he had done hit him. It was like something that had been stuck away had finally broken free and reminded Harry that this wasn't something that he should have done. He rolled off of the bed slightly, wincing as he felt something pull.

He dry heaved onto the floor for several minutes, looking to his bloodied hands. Was this going to be the price from now on? Was his blood going to the price for knowledge? To keep things safe?

Dust cawed slightly from inside the room and Harry could barely hear the crow.

He glanced to the last potion, still undrunk. Would he survive without it? Harry genuinely doubted it and for the first time, his mind wondered if he truly cared if he survived. Then Harry remembered the Horcruxes and he took the vial.

Regardless of everything else, Harry had to destroy the maker of those foul things. It was something that screamed within his soul. He wasn't sure if it was his own moral code or if it was his duties as the Pale Rider that made him want to destroy someone who had used the death of an innocent to make such a thing. One thing was certain though.

He would destroy them and the maker.

Harry drank down the vial of potion. It would accelerate his body's natural healing abilities. Unfortunately, it would also cause him to pass out for no less than twenty-four hours. There were spells that could do the same effect without the sleep being needed, but Harry didn't have the time to learn those spells just yet. Though, he was sure it could have been useful in sealing up the skin.

Harry dragged himself to a bed the room made and laid down on it. As he felt his body get heavy, and darkness over take him, he had one last thought. If he died there, then the Stone would still be quite safe.

-_Scene Break -_

It was near lunch time when the event happened that Dumbledore had been planning for. Immediately, he rose and grabbed his wand before heading down the steps towards the entrance of Hogwarts. He was unsurprised by the prompt action of Nicolas, but he had hoped for an extra day or so to try and have some progress in the search for the Stone.

He had barely informed the staff about it being missing and Nicolas was already there.

Dumbledore went out of the entry hall and out onto the grounds, seeing his friend and his wife moving up to him with a purpose.

Nicolas Flamel cut an impressive figure. His hair and beard were trimmed to a neat work, undoubtedly done by a professional in that it gave him an entitled look. He was broad of shoulder, though not as tall as Dumbledore was. He was dressed in a fine dark blue suit that was tailored to his form. A black cane was used to walk with. Nicolas' blue eyes bore into Dumbledore's. To Dumbledore who had lived a fraction of the man's life felt like he was staring into the night sky.

His wife, Perenelle, cut just as an impressive figure. In a charcoal colored suit, she looked conservative. Her silvery hair was drawn up into a bun and those blue eyes looked just as angry as Nicolas'. She was just a touch taller than Nicolas. If there was one thing the aged Veela could pull off, it was a look of sophistication.

Although, Dumbledore thought the Flamels were quite good at pulling off anger. It was understandable after all. "Good afternoon Nicolas, Perenelle." Dumbledore said, getting the both of them.

"Spare me the pleasantries Albus. What happened?" Nicolas asked in a hard tone. "You gave me assurance after assurance that my Stone would be safe in your care while you studied it. So, tell me. What happened?"

Dumbledore could understand his mentor's ire. It was hard not to when he had given quite a few assurances that the Stone would be safe inside of Hogwarts. "Perhaps we could take this to my office?" he asked. "I do not think we want this conversation to be aired in public." He also didn't want his own failings being aired publically. Then again, no one wanted that so he could hardly be blamed for wanting that.

Nicolas nodded after a brief glance to Perenelle who gave a small nod. The trio then moved inside the castle. Dumbledore made quick work of leading them up towards his office.

"This school has begun to decline at an even faster rate since I have last been here." Nicolas said as he glanced around. "But the Wards are surprisingly strong. Like a few have been recently charged."

"There… have been a few incidents." Dumbledore said as he led them up to his office. He conjured a comfortable sofa for the couple to sit on while he took his seat behind his desk.

"What sort of incidents?" Perenelle asked before her husband could start tearing chunks from Dumbledore. She knew her husband was a bit over protective of the Stone. Even if they had discussed in length about stopping their dosage of the elixir, Nicolas was still protective of the Stone due to many other properties it had. "You know we're not generally rash people Albus, but this Stone was the work of many decades. Even to this day we barely know what all it does."

"In the past two weeks, I have had a Mountain Troll inside my school that almost killed two students and I have had a possessed Professor die Perenelle." Dumbledore said honestly and a tad bluntly. "I just found out that the Stone was missing last night, though I would say it has been missing for about a week. I failed to place some additional security around it because in truth I had not expected just anyone to figure out that it was in the school. The only people that knew were myself, Severus Snape who is no longer with us, Rubeus Hagrid, and Minerva McGonagall, my Deputy.

"My first priority was obviously contacting the both of you to inform you that the Stone was missing. I have yet to conduct a proper search for the Stone before you two arrived. How you arrived in Britain before Fawkes had even returned is beyond me. I have been having a bad week Nicolas, Perenelle. Between the troll, the death of one of my Professors, and finding out that Voldemort had been in the castle, I have quite frankly been stretched a touch thin." Dumbledore didn't want to give any excuses, but he had to give the entire situation in blunt truthful detail to the two. "Frankly, I'm at my wits ends on how to determine who has the Stone, and I welcome any and all assistance that the two of you could provide in this situation." Dumbledore said.

Perenelle cut her husband off before he could say where Dumbledore can stick his excuses. "Perhaps if we were to just ask the students and staff if they took the Stone? It is almost time for lunch, correct?" She said, glancing to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded and stood up. "That sounds like a grand idea. I will, of course, cede to whatever decision you two decide to do with the Stone once it has been found." He wasn't going to attempt to keep it any longer. Not after it had been successfully stolen right out from under his nose.

The trio stood up and headed down to the Great Hall where almost everyone was sitting down to eat. "Students," Dumbledore started, stepping up to a podium. "Today we have a special guest with us who would like to ask something of all of you. If you could lend him your ears for just a moment, I'm sure we can settle this for a moment."

Nicolas stepped up to the podium once Dumbledore relinquished it and cleared his voice for a moment. "Students and staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I am Nicolas Flamel, the famed Alchemist. Early this summer, I had loaned your Headmaster one of my creations. Albus informed me of some of the precautions he took to keep my creation safe, but it has been found missing." Nicolas paused here to let it sink in.

"I'm looking for a Plum sized stone of the brightest blood red color you can imagine, clear as crystal and irregularly formed. My wife and I will be remaining inside of Hogwarts until after dinner before we return to France. Please, if you are the one that took the Stone, hand it over. You are not in trouble; I will not tell anyone that you took it." He paused once again, letting information sink in for the students. He didn't blame them in the slightest; the whole spiel of 'Third Floor corridor being out of bounds for those not seeking a most painful death' would have caused some simple teenage rebellion.

When he saw no one standing up in the slightest, he decided to try and sweeten the deal. "I will pay you your weight in pure gold for the return of my stone." Nicolas said. Fact of the matter was he and his wife both had more than enough money to pay ten times that amount. Being around for almost seven centuries made it quite obvious that they were filthy rich. "Thank you for your time." Nicolas said and stepped down, leading his wife out of the Great Hall.

Almost instantly mutters went up. Most of them couldn't fathom a stone being worth that much. Dumbledore was a little worried with the announcement, wondering if a few would try to foolishly trick the Alchemy master regarding his Stone. It was not exactly a smart thing to do.

Unfortunately, by the time dinner rolled by, the Stone did not show back up. Nicolas' warning to Dumbledore about needing to find it lest dire consequences occurred did nothing to help Dumbledore's feelings in the slightest.

His hands were tied on all the methods that would allow him to definitely find the student that had it. He couldn't just dose the lot with Veritaserum or start calling for Wizard's Oaths.

-_Scene Break-_

Every muscle in his body ached as Harry awoke. His head pounded in absolute agony and his entire body felt entirely too stiff. Slowly he began to sit up, hearing voices and wondering if he could somehow keep them down to a minimum.

"Easy there Mr. Potter, you have just had a very rough twenty-four hours."

Harry felt he could recognize that voice. But his vision was still blurry and his head was pounding. He heard Dust caw slightly in worry, the crow obviously fretting. It confused Harry slightly. Dust was usually like a rock, even when he was pushing Harry to his limits and beyond.

Finally, he began to look around as his vision cleared up better. On a stool he saw the Sorting Hat somehow, with Fawkes the Phoenix sitting at the foot of the bed, trilling softly and tilting his head to the side as he examined Harry.

Harry blinked twice before he turned to look at Dust for a moment. The events came back and he checked his side, noticing that the wound looked a lot better than it should have been. Of course, he was going to wait for the stitches to naturally dissolve so that he wasn't attempting to cut them out, but his side was healing a lot faster than what the potion should have done.

"What happened?" He asked. His tone was a little firm and a little more in control than he had been the past week since Dust offered the idea of cutting himself open. Even now, the idea didn't send as much shivers through him as he thought it would. Obviously Dust had suppressed his emotions once more.

After the anxiety filled week, he was glad to have them suppressed. He didn't linger on the fact he gave himself a scar. What was done, was done. He would also have to do it again eventually, but hopefully Nicolas had a professional that could cut Harry open to retrieve the Stone instead.

"What happened, Mr. Potter, is you almost died and Hogwarts responded. She brought Fawkes and me to this room, despite it being locked and sealed. As a Phoenix, Fawkes' tears are a powerful healing agent." The Sorting Hat said. There was no sugar coating the situation, there was no need to.

Harry took that statement for what it was. It was a reprimand from the Sorting Hat, and through it the school. "I screwed up on the procedure." Harry said simply, looking to the Sorting Hat a bit more.

"Quite. I have heard of a great deal of stupidly reckless stunts Mr. Potter. Being in the Headmaster's office year in and year out has seen to that. And what you did was indeed quite stupid and reckless. Perhaps I was wrong to place you into Ravenclaw. I have already seen fit to berate Dust for his suggestion that nearly saw your life slip away. You have roles to play Mr. Potter and not just your role as the Pale Rider."

Harry slowly got out of the bed. He stretched himself a little bit so that he could have most of his movement. He planned to keep from strenuous activity for the next two weeks, just to be on the safe side. "I want to protect the Stone until I could get it to Flamel." Even as he said it, that sounded like a flimsy excuse for what he had done.

"Then perhaps you should have waited a bit longer. Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel have already come to the castle and left. Albus had informed them the Stone was missing the same night he moved the Mirror." The hat retorted.

Harry felt a flash of irritation at that. "Hindsight is a very cruel mistress indeed." He said after a moment. He watched the Hat for a moment before he pressed a hand to his side. "A cruel mistress indeed." He muttered as he got dressed.

"So what sort of trouble am I in?" Harry asked as he adjusted everything so that he once more looked like the model student he portrayed. The hood of his robes was tucked inside between the robes and the school uniform, making it near impossible to see.

"You have been assigned a detention by Professor Aurora Sinistra. You missed your Astronomy class, so this Friday night will see you in her classroom at Eight P.M. sharp." The hat replied. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is still on hold, though Albus has seemed to have found a temporary replacement, at least until the end of the school year."

Harry nodded and helped settle Dust on his shoulder. He checked his wand and knife before he slipped his bag onto his shoulder. "Anything else?" he asked.

There was a slight thud of something heavy hitting wood and Harry raised an eyebrow at the sound coming from the Sorting Hat. "Hogwarts is giving you this item, place it with the other two. She seems certain you shall find something soon to complete the set and wishes you to present the set all at once rather than in piecemeal."

Harry moved over to the hat and lifted it up by the point. A beautiful blade seemed to start sliding out and Harry gently grabbed the blade so it didn't slice open his hand. He then lifted it up as he set the Sorting Hat back down on the stool.

He examined the blade, looking over the ruby encrusted hilt. To him that seemed a bit excessive, but he wasn't sure if the weapon was more decorative or not. He turned it carefully and paused, seeing the name of Godric Gryffindor. The school thought he would complete the set soon?

"Wait. The school is sentient?" Harry asked, suddenly picking up on that little fact.

"As much magic that occurs in these halls, the wards around the school, the magical creatures around, and the major connection of several magical leylines and you're surprised that Hogwarts is sentient?" The hat sounded amused at that.

Well, when put like that. "No, not really." Harry said. He looked himself over and glanced to the sword. How was he supposed to get this to Ravenclaw Tower?

A bag plopped down onto the bed. He shook his head slightly at both the school and the room. He moved over and found the bag to be much, much bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. That would certainly be handy. He began to tuck the sword into the bag and then placed his own bag into it. It wouldn't do to be carrying around two bags after all.

"Say, Hat," Harry began.

"Amadeus." The Hat said suddenly.

"Pardon?" Harry asked blinking.

"Helga named me Amadeus after I was enchanted." The Hat explained.

Harry nodded softly. Amadeus the Sorting Hat. He wasn't sure how to think on that. "Amadeus then… Would it be possible to take things from this Room that it provides? Such as books?"

"Indeed Mr. Potter, and if I could recommend, it is highly encouraged. The Room of Requirements has obtained such clutter over the years from students. It really does need cleaned out." Amadeus said.

Harry nodded and turned on his heel and headed out of the room. He had a lot to think about and even more to do.

Though, one fact did stick with him and caused him to have more determination in everything he did.

He had almost died in his hubris. It wouldn't be his last mistake, but he would learn from it.

He had to.

-Chapter End-

A/N: So… yeah… I didn't like this chapter either. It flowed well enough I suppose, I just didn't like it. No real idea.

Chapter 14 will see us getting into the Holidays, I hope.


	14. Chapter 14

Book 1

Chapter 14

After his monumental failure at safe guarding the Philosopher's Stone, Harry buckled back down on his studies into the various forms of magic. And truth be told, it was all he could consider the operation to put the Stone inside of his body as. Yes, it was inside of his body and safe, however he had almost died accomplishing the feat. Worse, hindsight told him had he waited another few hours, he would have been able to give the Stone to its rightful owner.

Hindsight was truly a vicious thing.

Harry was glad for the scar that was going to be on the left side of his body. It would forever cement what had happened to him in his mind. It was a constant reminder that he was not invincible, even if he was the Horsemen of Death. There were still plenty of things that could kill him, and until he found his Cowl, he had already used his one free pass.

Harry sighed as he continued to work on the books in the peacefulness of the Come and Go Room, or the Room of Requirements as Amadeus had called it. Ice Magic was definitely prominent in his stack of books, as were the various journals of the Founders. He whole heartedly expected them to be quite different than what they were portrayed as nowadays. He expected it to be a bit of gritty reading.

With how early he had gotten accustomed to waking up, along with his current injury, he spent his mornings within the Room of Requirements until it was time to head down to breakfast. In those few hours, he learned more and more, constantly taking notes in a journal of his own. He started with Ice Magic mostly because of his Aura. He needed to be able to do a lot more with Ice.

He took the books on Death Magic and stuffed them into the bag that the room had given. It definitely wasn't sorted in the slightest, but the truth was he couldn't experiment and perform Death Magic in Hogwarts. Well, he kind of could. There were no spells or wards stopping him after all so long as his experiments weren't endangering the students or staff. But the fact of the matter was he had no sacrifice that he could offer up for the Death Magic. He planned to get some chickens at the start of summer, maybe a Goat or two.

Though, he did start reading on the various rituals and warding that could be done with Death Magic and he came across one phrase often. The 'White Goat' was a euphemism for a human sacrifice, so most of those he didn't plan on doing. He'd try to substitute out the human sacrifice for something less… extreme such as the aforementioned chickens.

He had found a few rituals that also intrigued him. He could Raise the Dead apparently. And not the Inferi like Voldemort had risen during his reign of terror. Though, he did find a journal of a Hogwarts Student that had detailed the process of making Inferi. It was a bit of a creepy read. No, Harry could summon a corpse from its grave and it would be able to talk. It would have the personality of the person that had died.

There were a few things he would need in order to do such a ritual, such as a chicken for the sacrifice and as a meal for the raised dead, but he was certain he could perform it.

Harry stretched himself out a bit as he closed up his works and returned the books to their bookshelves. He then moved to his throne like chair once more and leaned back. Only the other Riders, or those that knew they were the Riders, would be allowed into this room Harry had decided. He opened his eyes to look at the three barren portions of the rooms. He could have filled them in, but the fact of the matter was he didn't know the other Riders… not yet at least.

Harry closed his eyes once more and began to push his Deathly Aura out once more. He could feel the chill running along him and he embraced it. His magic had been getting stronger and stronger the more he used it, and his Aura more noticeable. Before, when the frost started to creep in, he was generally on the verge of turning more skeletal.

Now he looked completely serene. He glanced around. In the small room the slight fog at his feet was dense. He just had to keep practicing it, it would get easier and easier the more he worked on it and he intended to work on it as much as possible. It would make his Ice Magic a lot easier.

Finally, he turned it back down. Just enough that the other students wouldn't stare and he rose to his feet and headed out of the Room of Requirements. Harry briefly glanced around to the other students that began to make their way out of the various Dorms and down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

It seemed they were talking about the upcoming Christmas Holidays. The Hogwarts Express would return the students to London on the twentieth of December and return the students back to the castle on the fourth of January. Of course, it was still two weeks away so that the students could all sign up to leave the castle if they wished to.

Harry's name had already been jotted down onto the parchment. He had a busy Holiday and he was needed outside of the castle so that he could get through everything in a timely manner. He had a scant two weeks to view the various Potter and Black properties as well as one possible Hogsmeade location that he intended to buy up when he could.

He had to tour each of them to determine if they needed brought out of stasis, if they needed House Elves, if they needed renovations, everything that he possibly could need. He didn't even particularly care that he was planning to spend Christmas alone.

The Dursleys were no family of his. At the moment, he had no one and that suited him just fine. He might actually be working on his Magic on Christmas anyways. He also didn't really expect any packages.

He entered the Great Hall and made his way towards his usual spot and sat down. He got Dust his toast before he started to get some food of his own. He had just picked up his goblet of orange juice when it happened.

The screeching of owls signaled the arrival of mail. But Harry never really received anything outside of Gringotts and most of that was confidential and thus was moved between the secure deposit boxes he always carried with him when he was working on his finances, like he did in the mornings.

Harry had not expected the 'whump' of a scroll landing on his plate of food. He glanced up from what he was working on and looked to the scroll, only for a second one to land with it.

Harry glanced up and watched as several hours dove down, dropping scrolls and letters onto his spot at the table and he just barely moved his books out of the way before they began to over fill onto his book. "What is all this?" Harry asked rhetorically.

He had to stand up as they began to spill onto his lap. Dust cawed angrily and even Harry felt his aura flare up at the sheer mass of scrolls and letters. Worse, most of them were formally sealed and stamped, meaning he would have to go through each and every one of them individually.

There were some chuckles moving throughout the Great Hall at Harry's reaction to all of the mail. Though when his only letter received by an owl had been a Gringotts letter, it was understandable that all of the mail he was currently piled with was a completely new concept to him. Worse, his food was somewhere in there and had he not had his goblet in hand, it would have spilled over the letters.

Professor Flitwick thankfully had come over, though amusement was indeed on his face. He looked at the steadily growing pile that spilled onto the floor as one last invite landed among them and the Owls had finally stopped. "Would you like some assistance Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked chuckling a little bit.

His secure deposit box from Gringotts also dinged, signaling one last letter.

Harry sighed heavily as he looked to the mountain of scrolls and letters. His wand came up and the _Incendio_ spell was on the tip of his tongue. However, he slowly lowered his arm and put his wand away. "I would love some help Professor." He said.

He then started to get some organization to the mess. Scrolls were stacked neatly and letters were also done just as neatly. Literally dozens of pieces of mail in one day and Harry took the time to neatly pile them back up so they weren't interfering with anyone eating anymore.

Thankfully Flitwick helped get the stuff that had fallen off the floor. He then took a moment to wave his wand over them all. He did it several times before he tucked it away. 'All of your mail is safe Mr. Potter; I'm not reading anything potentially harmful from my scans." He then headed back towards the Staff Table.

Harry slowly sat back down once more and ran his hands over his face. He got some more food once more and ate it quickly this time. He pinched the bridge of his nose slightly wanting to groan. But he started on the mail anyways.

The first piece he picked up was an invite to Professor Slughorn's Slug Club's Christmas dance. He set that to the side, starting a simple 'No' pile. He wasn't going to be in the castle. He briefly wondered if the Professor knew that.

And that began the general tone for the situation Harry found himself in. They were formal invitations to various Balls being held. Apparently, several of the students had heard that the Potter Heir wasn't going to be in the castle during the Winter Holidays and had their families send him an invite to their family's ball or as their family's guest to another family's ball.

Most of these went with Slughorn's invitation in a very firm 'No' pile. Simply put, he had prior engagements that required his attention. He wasn't going to cancel a meeting with the Goblins simply to go dancing and mingling.

However, a few were brought to his attention that he wasn't sure if he was doing anything at that time so he had to take out his planner. He generally was going to be working on two properties per day. The Potter Manor was going to take a day in and of itself, so maybe he could shuffle that around so he could do an event that evening. The Black Ancestral home was also going to be taking up most of a day, so he might be able to pull off another event. Even still, he had over two dozen properties to look at.

Harry set his planner down and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Finally, he put his glasses back on and decided to redo things. People who had children he was on a first name basis, he moved into a tentative 'maybe' pile.

He was about halfway through the letters when he got another form of invite. It made him want to absolutely hex someone until they couldn't even see straight anymore. He could feel his Deathly Aura being affected by his irritation. He had families offering their home to stay in for the duration of the Holidays.

Harry sighed a bit and glanced up to the Staff Table. Though it was another Tuesday where he only had Defense Against the Dark Arts and Astronomy, he knew he had to be in class again. Missing Astronomy had… well… he wasn't against black marks on his record, but it still felt unnecessary now and that was what he loathed. He despised that it had been unnecessary.

Harry let his lips quirk into a smile a bit at the new DADA. Dumbledore had pulled a stroke of genius; even Harry was willing to admit that much despite his qualms against the man. Dumbledore managed to snag Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt for the position of DADA.

He had been quite the success so far, even going so far as to pull some practice OWL and NEWT tests for the upper years to make sure that they would be ready for them at the end of the year. But he was also there as a link to the Auror office, in case anything else went wrong.

Harry frowned and turned back to his various letters. He began to go through them again, knowing he would have to personally decline each and every one of them that he could. Several offered for him to stay with them during the Holidays. He got a few invites for Christmas and Boxing Day.

Harry stared at the latest invite he had received. He wasn't entirely sure why he was getting it. An invite to stay with the Holyhead Harpies over the Holidays may be a dream for some, but Harry had no love of the sport and had no idea who any of the women were personally. He put that in the very definitive 'No' pile.

Harry really wanted to know who had let it slip he wasn't staying with his family but he wasn't staying at the castle. While the invites were indeed flattering, they were from some people he didn't know or relatives of people he barely spoke to.

Harry came across an invite to the Ministry New Year's Ball and he put that in the 'Maybe' pile. It would be good to see what the current political climate was like. He had a bit of an idea given the pompous strutting of Draco Malfoy like he was untouchable, but it still wouldn't hurt.

Harry took the 'Maybe' pile and began to better look through the dates, tucking them into the 'No' pile when they clashed with his schedule with the Goblins. He had the schedule since October, he wasn't going to be able to re-arrange too much to it without causing someone a tizzy.

Invites for him to stay with the family in question during the Holidays were also placed into the 'No' pile. He had entirely too much work to be done to be coming and going and answering to someone's worried parents.

With his pile cut down once more, Harry placed the Ministry Ball invite into a new 'Yes' pile and penned it into his schedule. He also made a note to request a change in schedule with Ironskull of the Black Ancestral Home from Boxing Day to New Year's Eve and the Houses that were meant to be checked on New Year's Eve placed to Boxing Day.

That shouldn't cause too much of a problem. He then jotted the note down and placed it into the Black Account Security Box. It dinged after a moment, indicating that it had been sent.

Harry then began to go through the various other letters. Invites to stay on Christmas were placed in the 'No' pile. He was examining Potter Manor on that day, something he wasn't going to change in the slightest. He wanted to be in the home that the Potters had been using for centuries.

With a few more invites, he glanced through them slowly. Finally though, he settled on one more invite to accept. Amelia Bones had invited him to spend some time on Boxing Day with her, Susan, and the Abbots. He did sort of owe Amelia a bit more than the others. The rest he tucked into the 'No' pile and jotted in his planner for Lunch with the Bones on Boxing Day.

He could have also, possibly, arranged lunch with a few more groups. But the fact of the matter was that he had no idea when he would finish inspecting each of the properties. He could be having an early Lunch or a late Lunch. It was just better to do it that way than worry another family regarding when he would arrive. That would hardly be fair to them after all.

Harry took the moment to organize his 'No' pile into a few groups. He tucked those that he would have to mail a decline to into his bag. He would do that later, after his nap before Astronomy class. He then alphabetized the names of those he would be Declining in person, or at least to the students there at Hogwarts. He also sorted it into Houses and then years so he could hopefully get it done a little bit faster.

He saved one particular letter to the side for the time being. He had to check something from Rotgut.

He opened the box and read through the parchment, his eyes widening slightly before a frown crossed his face. His frown only deepened as he regarded what it meant and he folded it up. He was quite tempted to destroy it then and there. He didn't, he tucked it carefully into his bag that was within the expanding bag. That should keep it safe for at least a little while.

Finally, Harry stood up and grabbed the letter he had set aside. It would be best to get this particular one out of the way immediately before class. He strode up towards the Staff Table and paused before Professor Slughorn. Harry gently placed the letter on the table.

"Thank you for the gracious invitation Professor Horace Slughorn, however I must regrettably and humbly decline." Harry said. "I have pressing business that has been scheduled for quite some time now that sees me out of the castle for the Holidays. You have my deepest and most sincere apologies." Harry then turned and walked away, heading out of the Great Hall.

He'd get the students outside of breakfast.

-_Scene Break-_

It was Saturday and Harry reveled in the pain filling his chest and his legs as he rushed about. His 'detentions' with Flitwick had finally graduated up to Dueling. Most of the time he lost, but every now and then he would win. Then Flitwick would take it up a notch and he'd be back on his losing streak.

They were doing about four or five duels every Saturday now.

Harry vaulted over one of the rocks that the Charms Master had provided for cover. There wasn't a whole lot of cover, but there was plenty for Harry to move around with and attempt to get closer to Flitwick.

Harry ducked under a spell and flicked his hand up. The mist around his feet condensed and formed a thick slab of ice that took the brunt of Flitwick's Leg-locker Hex. He had been getting a lot better at using Ice Magic, especially with as high as his Deathly Aura was.

He moved out of the way from the Blasting Hex that completely shattered his slab of ice. He told himself to keep moving, that he couldn't stop at all costs. He should be using Stinging and Gouging Hexes to try and take down Flitwick, but the fact of the matter was he had to also keep his magical energy up as best as he could. He needed his magic to shield from Flitwick's spells.

Harry ducked and rolled under another Volley of chained together spells. Flitwick loved using his chained spells, one motion leading into another and giving Harry hardly any breathing room in the slightest. But he still came up just before Flitwick who had a spell on his lips when Harry dropped his wand and pushed Flitwick's wand away. Harry's knife flicked out of its sheath and pressed against the Charms Professor's throat.

"Yield." Harry breathed heavily. He was starting to wonder if he should maybe give up working out on Saturdays given how effectively Flitwick had him moving around just to dodge the Professor's spell work.

"I yield Harry. Excellent Job today." Flitwick said, backing up slightly.

Harry nodded and tucked his knife away before he retrieved his wand. That also went into his holster. While Harry fully expected Flitwick to eventually pull some dirty tricks, he seriously doubted it would be that year. Flitwick was still getting a read on him apparently.

The two then moved into Flitwick's office, the classroom changing back to normal as they walked. It was quite the impressive piece of magic, though according to Flitwick he often did it the night before so that he would have plenty of magic in order to duel with Harry.

Flitwick sat at his desk and flicked his wand to pour the tea. He took a healthy drink of it before he regarded Harry. "I have come to figure out what sort of duelist you are Harry."

Harry was most interested in that. It would mean they could take the training up a level so he sat up a bit straighter and drank some of the tea to feel a bit more invigorated.

"At first, I thought you to be a well-rounded sort of Duelist. A Duelist duelist to those in the trade. Stupid name really, but it stuck for the most rounded of Duelist. Someone that is not too skilled in any particular area. But then I started to notice your natural reactions. You tend not to use strong offensive spells in favor of using stronger Shield magic." Flitwick said.

Harry shrugged slightly. "I generally have a knife with me." He said like it made the most sense. "Plus, I don't know much offensive magic."

"Yet all it would take would be a lance of ice through one of my spell chains to defeat me like you've already done." Flitwick pointed out.

Harry frowned a moment. "Those lances take a lot of energy." They took entirely too much energy and he usually had a nosebleed afterwards. He knew he need to practice them, but he couldn't really do it more than once or twice a day so far.

"This is precisely my point Harry." Flitwick said bouncing in his seat a little bit. "You're style is all about conserving energy for your shields. Strong shields of magic and ice nonetheless. You are a Fortress Duelist." He said happily.

"Pros and Cons?" Harry asked as he drank some more tea.

"The Cons are that a Fortress tends to rely too heavily on shields. But you already have an advantage over most of the Fortresses that I've faced off against Harry; you never stand still during a duel. You're constantly moving, even if you're letting a spell miss you by the fraction of a hair. You shield instead of attacking until you're absolutely sure your spell will connect and do the most damage. This is a sign of a Fortress. The Pros to being a Fortress Duelist are that most Duelists don't have the fire power to break down your shields in a single spell. So while you cast one shield, they've casted anywhere from two to ten shields to break through." Flitwick paused, letting everything sink in as he took a drink of tea to quench his parched mouth.

"I plan to train you, even past these detentions Harry. I myself happen to be a Spell Weaver Duelist, the natural enemy of the Fortress. Spell Weavers tend to link spells together far and spread, making it difficult to shield or to dodge and once we've started we're difficult to stop. The problem is it takes us a while to get to where we can make it look effortless, and after five or six chains it will start to drag on us. Fortress Duelists are Duelists who work with attrition. A Spell Weaver works on pure aggression Harry."

Harry chuckled a little bit. Flitwick's enthusiasm was something to behold really, especially when it came to Dueling. The eighty something year old Professor looked to be ten years younger when speaking about the things he was passionate about. "You know I have no interest in becoming a Professional Duelist, right Professor?" Harry asked. "I plan to enter into Business and possibly Politics, try to make a new Glory for the Potter name."

"True, but tell me something Harry. What would the fame of being a skilled Duelist at a young age hurt either of your ambitions?" Flitwick asked.

Harry raised his cup of tea, acknowledging Flitwick's point. There was nothing that would hurt his ambitions if he managed to make a name of himself in the Dueling Circuit. Maybe he could look to it another year, when his schedule wasn't so full.

As it stood, he had to get to France sometime in the summer to return Flamel his Stone.

-_Scene Break-_

It was finally time to leave Hogwarts. Harry had his trunk in hand, ready to board the train. He was all bundled up nice and snugly to keep away the chill of the Scottish Highlands Winter. He noticed that there were a fair few people leaving the castle for the Holidays. Not many, but certainly enough.

He boarded the train and made his way to an empty compartment. His sign of 'Knock First' and a sticking charm later found himself hopefully quite alone for the next several hours while they made their way towards London.

He hefted his trunk up to the overhead compartment and sat down with a book on Conjuration. He was hoping that by the time that he returned to the castle he'd be ready to start practicing it.

The train hadn't left yet when a knock sounded on the door. Harry sighed softly. Maybe he should have thrown up his Deathly Aura. He was an anti-social individual. Still, Flitwick's words of trying to make some friends did still remain in his head.

He still didn't understand them, but he took them to heart at least.

So he stood up and crossed over to the door and slid it open. He blinked to see Hermione there. "May I?" she asked, inclining her head towards the mostly empty compartment.

Harry sighed and held the door open, shifting out of the way. "Sure." He said. He hoped she didn't badger him with questions about his book. He was hopeful, yes, but it was the only thing to keep him from groaning.

She entered, dragging her trunk behind her. She set her book down in a seat and was about to lift her trunk up when Harry grabbed it from her. "I got it." He told her, lifting it up and putting it in the overhead compartment effortlessly.

"Thank you." Hermione said, sounding relieved as she sat down and was about to pick up her book.

Harry sat down and opened his book when he heard a gasp and glanced up to see Hermione staring at the title of his book.

"That's a book on Conjuration!" she said sounding like a mix between excitement and awe. "Wherever did you find it?" Hermione asked. "Isn't it really advanced magic?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose slightly. "Hermione, I found it. That's all I'm going to tell you. I've found a lot of books at Hogwarts, a fair few of them in my trunk." He closed his book as he stared to her brown eyes. "Second, it is advanced magic. However, it is also beginning Conjuration. I'm not trying to conjure intricate things just yet. At best, I might manage a wooden spoon right now, if I'm lucky."

Harry then pointedly opened his book once more and glanced down. "And I would like to read this book and finish it before I get back to London. If you let me, I might be inclined to find a matching book for you when we get back to Hogwarts." He said.

It was only the Conjuration textbook from when Conjuration was a given elective, so he seriously doubted he wouldn't find another book.

They started to move and Harry continued to read. It was maybe ten minutes after they left Hogsmeade station when a second knock sounded on the door. Harry closed his book and stood up, making his way over to the door.

Opening it, he saw Millicent Bullstrode with her own luggage. "Harry, would you mind if I sat with you?" she asked.

Harry opened the door wider and stepped aside. He already had one tag along, a second wouldn't likely hurt.

Millicent stepped in, pausing just slightly to see Hermione before she dug a book out of her trunk and was about to lift her trunk. Harry waved her off. 'I have it Millie." He said. He then lifted it up and slid it into the overhead compartment.

He then sat back down and picked up his book, noticing that Millicent and Hermione sat with one seat between them while Harry sat across from them in the middle seat.

"Thank you for this Harry." Millicent said as she found her place in her book.

"Don't thank me yet." Harry said looking up. "You two both know that I do not play favorites between Houses or between Blood status. I hear any form of bigotry and I'll have to ask you to leave the compartment. If you're unwilling, I'll look for a Hufflepuff Prefect to help you leave." He said bluntly.

Millicent held up both hands. "Won't hear it from me." She said. "It's sort of why I tried to find a different place to sit. Pansy was trying to drag me to sit with Draco and while Vincent and Greg can be conversational, they tend not to be when Draco is around. The whole blood purity spiel that Draco tries to shovel around is frankly disgusting." Millicent offered a slight smirk. "Doesn't mean Slytherin won't win the House Cup." She said competitively.

Hermione snorted a bit. "Not with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle. No offense, but having had several classes with them leaves me feeling underwhelmed at their academic abilities." Hermione countered. "So the House Cup will go the House of the Brave and Courageous."

"Well, Greg isn't too bad. He has trouble reading the work, especially with everything being pretty much hand written. He can work it through and he's fairly intelligent, he just has difficulty reading." Millicent said. "Vincent on the other hand… unfortunately about as bright as a box of rocks."

"Sounds to me like Mr. Goyle has a learning disability such as dyslexia." Harry said, not even looking up from his book. He had no interest in being pulled into a competition on who would win the House Cup. The Ravenclaw first year simply had no interest one way or the other.

"Dyslexia?" Millicent asked, sounding confused.

"Dyslexia is a reading disorder where the brain can't quite figure out what certain letters and numbers are. You and I could read the word 'teapot' as 't-e-a-p-o-t'; a Dyslexic would instead possibly read the word as 't-a-e-g-o-t'. A Dyslexic person isn't stupid per say, but they would have difficulty reading." Harry offered as an explanation. "Non-magical people just love coming up with ideas about everything possibly wrong."

Millicent seemed fascinated by the prospect. "Do you think it's possible that Greg could be cured?" she asked sounding hopeful.

"Cured? No, I don't believe a cure exists. All you can do is be patient and supportive." Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. "It is scary sometimes how much you know."

Harry glanced up to Hermione. "To be fair, my cousin is Dyslexic. Of course, his mother and father spoil him rotten and believe nothing can possibly be wrong with him." Harry shook his head and put his nose back into his book. He didn't want to talk about his relatives any more than absolutely necessary.

And even then that was too much for him.

Hermione seemed to notice that Harry didn't want to talk about it so she changed the subject. "Millicent, what are you reading?" she asked.

"Oh, just a book on Illusions. My family has always had a bit of a knack for them." The Slytherin girl said.

"Illusions?" Hermione despaired. "But that's rather advanced magic as well. Where did you get that book?" She craved the knowledge and anyone around her knew that.

"Probably the same place Harry got the book on Conjuration." Harry glanced up, briefly wondering if Millicent knew about the Room of Requirements. "The House Library. Slytherin House has all sorts of books on all sorts of magic. I wouldn't be surprised if Ravenclaw had an even more extensive library."

Harry snorted a bit and glanced back down to his book. 'Hate to burst your bubble Millie, but I didn't get my book from the House Library. Professor Flitwick tends to keep the more advanced magic under lock and key. Some of the older years are able to borrow it, but never for long periods of time. I found this book somewhere else in Hogwarts. Though, I can get you a book on Enchanting if you'd like."

"Yes please." Both girls said at the same time, making Harry chuckle slightly.

"But the Houses have a Library?" Hermione asked sounding excited about the idea of having a library within Gryffindor tower.

"I would honestly doubt it for Gryffindor." Harry said, bursting Hermione's bubble. "Hogwarts is first and foremost a Castle. Castles used to be used as military installations. I wouldn't be surprised if Gryffindor, when helping renovate or building the castle chose to include an armory and a training area for those of his House. He wanted the Brave and the Courageous, those that would charge into the front lines beside him in case someone attacked Hogwarts. At least, that's what I think." He hadn't gotten to Godric's journals just yet.

Hermione pouted a bit. "Then what about the rest of the Houses?"

"I would suspect Hufflepuff having an armory and training area as well." Harry said after a moment. "The hard workers and loyal find that place home, so they would of course defend the school as well. Slytherins and the Ravenclaws would be support, so they would have more spell books for long range work. Hard to stop a Giant with a sword, but a bit of Battle Magic from afar would definitely turn that tide."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before she nodded slightly. She supposed she could understand that.

The ride back to London passed mostly in silence for the three First years. Harry once more bought a pot of tea from the trolley lady when she came by and he even shared it. He was thankful neither of the two girls asked about Harry's plans for the Holidays.

He was going to be busy most of the time anyways.

When he got to London, he helped the girls get their trunks down. He waited until the commotion died down a bit before he headed outside, carrying his luggage with him.

It was time for some busy holidays.

-End Chapter-

A/N: Nothing. I got nothing.

Adios.


	15. Chapter 15

Book 1

Chapter 15

Having found out about Floo Travel, it wasn't hard for Harry to find the Floo Network connected to King's Cross Station. Of course, they charged five Galleons a person, with an extra Galleon for each piece of luggage. Harry paid the money without the slightest bit of hesitation. He had the money to spare.

In truth, he could live off of his Trust vaults alone. Fifteen thousand Galleons a year was not something to scoff at. It equaled about five pounds per Galleon, so he was looking at about seventy five thousand pounds a year in his trust vaults.

He could give up six Galleons.

Harry came out at the Leaky Cauldron. While perhaps not the fanciest place he could have gone to for his winter Holidays, it did make for a good place to stay. He was friendly with Tom, it was near a major area of magic so it was difficult for the Ministry to monitor him, he could slip out into Muggle London if necessary, and people were constantly coming and going that no one would bat an eye at him coming and going every day.

"Tom, I need a room until the fourth of January." Harry said stepping closer to Tom and passing off the Galleons necessary. "I'll be coming and going a lot, so it doesn't have to be anything extravagant, but having a personal bathroom would definitely be welcome." Some rooms had them; others had to use one of four communal bathrooms in the Leaky Cauldron.

"That's extra Lad." Tom said as he started to count up the Galleons provided.

"There's extra there." Harry said simply.

Tom nodded and slid Harry a key. "Room 9." He told Harry.

"Appreciate it." Harry said before he began to make his way over towards the room. He deposited his luggage and glanced at the clock. It took the Hogwarts Express seven hours to make its trip in either direction.

Harry had a bit of time until he had to go meet with the Goblins. It was not a meeting he was looking forward to if he was honest with himself. He wasn't really sure what to make of it. When he had made his boon to the High King shortly after putting the Stone inside of himself, he hadn't been entirely certain if it would be allowed.

Harry removed his warmer robes and double checked his slacks and his dress shirt, making sure everything looked nice. He then removed the Harvester from his trunk and had it wrap around his left arm. Harry then pulled out the note he had received almost two weeks ago, flipping it over in his hand slowly as he examined it.

He had received an invite to dine with the High King Ragnarokk of the Goblin Nation. Not only that, but he received the invite for that day nonetheless instead of immediately. The twentieth of December, the High King did good work.

Harry drew his robes onto his form and began to walk out. He didn't have his scar hidden; he didn't have the usual red tips in his hair either. He was going to dine with the High King; he wouldn't hide himself in the slightest.

As he approached the brick wall leading into the alley, his wand flicked out and he tapped the proper bricks and the wall slid open. He was briefly surprised at how packed Diagon Alley was, but after a brief moment he reminded himself that it was the Holidays and as such there were bound to be people doing last minute shopping.

He had an hour before he was expected to dine with Ragnarokk, but Harry didn't stop for any of the shops. He didn't expect any presents, so it wasn't like he was going to give any. Harry drew up his Aura though as a few people recognized him. He welcomed the biting cold of the London winter. The snow falling on his shoulders and in his hair didn't bother him in the slightest. With his Deathly Aura up, it was very cold around him, making him more unapproachable.

He hated being crowded and he was already on a tight time schedule. He didn't know if he was expected to be in Ragnarokk's presence at seven, or if he was supposed to be in the bank at seven. Either way, he refused to be late because people wanted to crowd around him. Harry also recognized that his irritation at the people was causing his Aura to go even higher than he had anticipated. He had to reign in the impulses.

Harry arrived at the steps of Gringotts and made his way inside. The bank was always open, the Goblins always looking to make a bit of gold. Generally though, they were just the tellers and the Goblins operating the mine carts. After all, the older family Accounts were only managed by one Goblin. The smaller accounts could be handled by just about any Goblin.

Harry glanced to his invite to dine with Ragnarokk. Did he take it to a teller? Or did he ask to see his account manager? He began to move towards a teller. Either option saw him speaking with a teller anyways. Given the lines, he hoped he wasn't expected to report for the dinner by seven. It was a bit of a wait.

It wasn't surprising to Harry that the wait was quite a bit longer than he had anticipated. After all, it was the holiday season. That meant money come and going through the vaults. The Goblins may not celebrate Christmas, as seen by the fact Harry was touring Potter Manor on the twenty-fifth, but they did seem to love the money that the Holiday brought their way. It may not seem like much in the long run, but the fact of the matter was that certain businesses had to go through Gringotts to get their products and as such had to pay in higher quantity.

He knew that certain Dragon hides could only be obtained through Gringotts.

Finally, Harry got to speak to a teller and after a glance to the time he decided he'd just show the invitation to a teller. He slid it up to the counter wordlessly and watched as the Goblin read through it quickly, glancing up to Harry. "Have a seat to the side." The goblin said, sliding the invite back.

Harry accepted it and moved to sit down. He briefly wished he had brought a book to read, or brought Dust even, but he sat patiently and waited.

He briefly thought back to the crow, sitting in the rafters of the Leaky Cauldron near the chimney so that it could be nice and warm. Despite Harry's insistence that the tunnels would likely be warm, as well as the throne room, the bird absolutely refused to go anywhere in the cold more than it had to. Harry didn't really blame the bird for that though.

"Mr. Potter, follow me." Harry rose at the words of his Account Manager and began to follow Rotgut.

"I wasn't entirely sure on the etiquette behind the situation Master Rotgut." Harry said as he walked alongside the Potter Account Manager when they were out of the general public.

"I would have been more surprised if you did Mister Potter. Dining with the High King is not something any human can do after all. It has been quite some time since anyone had even seen him before you, to Dine with him… well I am not old enough to know. One of our historians might, but not me." Rotgut explained.

A wheezing cackle was heard and Harry glanced to his other Account Manager who had just joined them from a side passage. "Master Ironskull." Harry said in way of greeting.

"Mr. Potter. I doubt those stuffy scribes would know in the slightest of when a human has seen the High King or nonetheless dined with him. Rumor marks Arthur Pendragon as the last man to see the High King. Though, the likelihood of his existence is debated among Goblins as much as the name Merlin." Ironskull said with a twisted smirk. "Unfortunately there is not much left to their legacy except for stories, so that is what we treat them as… Stories."

Harry thought on what Ironskull was saying before he nodded slightly. Wizards at Hogwarts claimed Merlin's existence. Even claimed he was a Slytherin. Harry wasn't so sure. The Ministry hadn't even been a gleam in someone's eye at that point, so there would be no records of him. Gringotts hadn't been founded yet, so there was no vault of dusty gold just waiting for an heir to claim it.

Harry thought someone used the name of Merlin as a sort of publicity work to get the children to attend Hogwarts. They could learn from those that taught Merlin himself. Could that be all there was to Merlin? Was he just a fictional individual?

Harry thought back to what Dust had told him. All stories had a basis of truth inside of them. So it couldn't hurt to possibly believe that Merlin had existed. But the stories were quite possibly embellished greatly. Harry even seriously doubted that Hogwarts had seen him as a student.

Harry walked with his two Account Managers down into the depths of the caverns underneath Gringotts once more. The Magic behind all of it truly surprised Harry. He was almost certain some Mundane people would have found the tunnels, yet the tunnels were still unbroken by any sewer. Still, despite his awe and surprise at the magic behind it, Harry was still uncomfortable with the close darkness pressing in.

"Do Goblins have superior night vision to Humans?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes." Rotgut answered. "Wizards will always need more light than a Goblin to work in the dark or in the depths. We find ourselves quite at home inside the darkness Mr. Potter."

They came to the door that led into the throne room and it was opened at their approach. Inside was now a table full of food. High King Ragnarokk sat at the head of the table with his translator to his side. A small part of Harry was hoping that the High King wouldn't have to speak through his mouth piece that was still glaring at Harry.

Just a small part.

Harry stayed standing, even as Rotgut and Ironskull bowed to their High King. He supposed he could see how it could be constituted as being insulting. But he was still the Pale Rider. And until that position was passed onto someone, he would not Bow. Not in the slightest.

Ragnarokk however laughed. "Stones as solid as diamond." He reiterated his opinion. "Come, sit! Eat! We have much to talk about."

Harry followed the lead of his two Account Managers, taking a seat at the table. He didn't place himself right next to Ragnarokk. Instead, he sat at the opposite end of the table. It wasn't a particularly long table so Harry didn't think he was being insulting by sitting at the opposite end.

Harry did have the intelligence to wait with the other three Goblins at the table for the High King to start eating. Harry wasn't sure what sort of animal leg it was that the High King was starting with, but Ragnarokk seemed pleased with the food as he took the first bite.

It allowed for everyone to start eating and Harry's mouth was filled with the taste of lamb as he took a bite of the meat. It was delicious food and Harry found himself not caring that he ate a bit more than he intended.

"Now, Mr. Potter, of all the boons I have granted in my time as High King," Ragnarokk began before taking a drink from his goblet. "Yours comes across as something of a curiosity. You want Goblin made armor. And not just any Goblin made armor; you want some fine Goblin made armor with some of the best enchantments we can offer. Some, like the growth enchantment so it can resize to you as you continue to get bigger, are simple. Fire resistance enchantments are also just as easy. But enchantments that make it portable are a bit trickier. Not only that, you are asking for Goblin made Armor as a human. I find myself asking why." Ragnarokk said.

"Not just armor for me, but for a Horse as well." Harry said, but he could understand what Ragnarokk was asking. "Being the Pale Rider means that I'm one of the Riders that acts as… a sort of frontline foot soldier. I am not quite as combat proficient as War will be, nor will I ever be. However, both Pestilence and Famine act as more support than actual combat ready fighters.

"My supplies do not include a Shield and Armor set like War's does. I have a cloak, a cowl, my scythe, and a gauntlet." Harry explained. "The armor will keep me protected, and the armor for Despair will keep him protected. Will I depend on it? No. But it can mean the difference when I can't dodge or shield against something." He said

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, taking a bite of the roasted lamb leg. When he finished with the bite, he looked up once more to Ragnarokk. "As the Pale Rider, I will be out there eventually. I will have to respond to every breech of the veil between this World, and the next. There are things beyond the Veil that even the most gifted of Wizards will be incapable of handling. Imagine a horror straight from a nightmare, throwing pure darkness, lances of fire and ice, hurling tons worth of stones, incapable of feeling pain and incapable of dying. Only the Harvester is capable of causing these creatures pain, something they don't understand, something they don't normally feel. It enrages them. They do not play by our rules. Armor for Despair and me will offer just a second longer, maybe a second chance to get my scythe sunk into these creatures."

"These things sound as bad as a Dementor." Ragnarokk said, taking a drink from his goblet. "And are you telling me only you can handle them?"

Harry mused on that question for a moment. "A Dementor, even a Lethifold, is rather… easy to deal with. Heat, warmth, strong emotions like love, those sorts of things will always push a Dementor back. The creatures I speak of… Monstrous." Harry shook his head. "I dare not even name them for fear of summoning them. They can be stopped by normal people, but they cannot be pushed back, only contained. And the Veil is weakened by every one of those things that is contained and not pushed back. Most that break through are weak from doing so and will be easy to push back. Others though… Others are the things of Legends."

"It sounds like you fear these things." The translator said. It was obviously trying to undermine Harry before Ragnarokk who had taken a liking to Harry for some reason

"Fear…" Harry chuckled slightly. "Fear would be a good word for it. These monstrosities are terrifying. It would be like fighting a mountain. War will help, I know they will. But to not fear these things would be stupid. It would make me cocky, make me arrogant in the face of the danger that these things are. I don't have to worry about them yet, but I will. The Souls of the Past Riders give me a ten year grace period from the time that Dust found me. I have already used close to four. But they will need to rest for decades before they can do it again, meaning I must find the next Pale Rider in that time and train them in what needs to be done while still attending to my duties.

"Furthermore, the attacks have slowed over the centuries. This is something that bothers me. It bothers Dust as well, and he can only speculate as to what is happening. Are more of these things being pushed back than we realize? Are they being banished instead? We do not know." Harry said.

Harry then directed his gaze once more to the High King of the Goblin Nation. "I ask the Goblins for Armor because they are better at making what I need. I need something light weight to not interfere with my movement, but sturdy enough to take some damage. I could ask the Dwarves, they would argue that their work is better than the Goblins, but the fact of the matter is the Dwarves tend to make heavier arms and armor."

Ragnarokk motioned to one of his servants that brought in a tray of some bubbling liquid in five large mugs. Harry was quite surprised to see one placed before him and the Goblins looking to it thoughtfully. Except for Ragnarokk. "Grog is customarily drunk in informal setting like this for celebratory purposes. I am granting you your Boon Pale One, you and your horse shall have some of the finest armor that the Goblin Nation can craft." Ragnarokk took the first pull from the large mug.

"What… exactly is Grog?" Harry asked as the other Goblins took lesser drinks from their own mugs.

"Grog is… Well, it's generally not drunk in a formal setting, or around women." Rotgut said. "It's some of the headiest alcohol that the Goblins make. Drinking it warmed is considered a sign of stoutness."

"And generally something no human could possibly drink without blacking out." The translator spat.

Well, that settled it for Harry. He was going to see if he could politely decline drinking the alcohol. He was getting tired of the translator's bigotry. Harry grasped the handle of the mug firm and held it up, saluting the translator with it with a slight smirk. "Cheers!" he said cheerfully.

He then put it to his lips and began to drink. He wanted to cough and choke as it burned down to his stomach, but Harry didn't stop drinking down the Grog. He tilted his head and body back as he made sure to get everything that he could before he put the mug down hard on the wooden table.

Harry grimaced and coughed slightly. "Ugh… That is some of the foulest tasting stuff I have ever had." Harry said. His eyes even burned from the stunt and he briefly wondered if it was like drinking petrol. That one act probably put him off from alcohol for the rest of his life. Harry glanced up at the rest of the table, breathing a bit heavy seeing the stunned looks on the faces of the four Goblins.

Then Ragnarokk burst out laughing, a laugh that came from deep within and almost sounded like a cruel cackle. He took another drink of his Grog before turning to face his translator. "And that is why I have come to like the boy." He snarled at the translator. "He has rebuked you at every turn that he could and made you look like a fool without deliberately insulting you. Every single challenge towards him, he has made you look like a fool but even still you can't and won't attack him. You have no Right to."

The translator snarled a bit but ducked his head, recognizing the rebuke of the High King. The translator's bigotry would not be tolerated towards Harry Potter.

Harry ate a little bit more before he glanced to his watch. "High King Ragnarokk, the dinner has been wonderful, and while the Grog less so, the symbolism of it nonetheless appreciated. However, I have business tomorrow with these two Goblins starting early in the morning. I'm afraid I must take my leave now."

Plus, if Harry was honest, he wanted to go throw up and pass out… preferably in that order and not in the same location.

Ragnarokk nodded his head. "Go on then Pale One."

Harry rose to his feet and watched his Account Managers do the same. They then began to walk out in silence and Harry was thankful for that. He was already having a pounding headache and the sounds of shovels and pickaxes as they walked through the tunnels did nothing for that pounding.

Harry made his way out of the bank, heading back up to the Leaky Cauldron. His Aura was fluctuating, proving that Alcohol and magic definitively did not mix that well. He wasn't drunk, he still had depth perception and his vision wasn't blurry except for the tears the lingering burn caused. But he had a heavy buzz going on.

He made his way to his room where he managed to get to the private bathroom before throwing up. A quick _Incendio_ at the fireplace caused it to ignite and he moved over to his bed. He flopped down and passed right out, the effects of the Grog throwing him into the embrace of Morpheus.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry exited the Floo and, to be perfectly honest, he felt much better. A good night sleep, a good English breakfast, and a cup of tea had done surprising wonders after the events of last night. He chuckled slightly as he made his way out of the Three Broomsticks. The Goblins would be arriving by Portkey quite soon.

Harry watched as the two Account Managers arrived, both holding a file at the ready. "Mr. Potter, we're glad you're here. Shall we?" Rotgut asked before he began to lead away.

Harry followed, all bundled up with Dust sitting just inside the jacket so his head could peek out and watch where they were going. It was the only way that Harry was able to convince the crow to come with. He noticed the Goblins had even come dressed for the biting chill.

He chuckled a bit, wondering if the Professors knew he was back in Hogsmeade. Of course, he wasn't going to go up to the school; he was doing business after all.

"The only plot of land that Hogsmeade currently has to offer for a relative steal would be the Shrieking Shack." Rotgut said as he began leading up the hill. "With a total of four bedrooms and two bathrooms, it would make for a simple home that you can entertain your close friends in. While believed to be haunted, we at Gringotts do not believe that to be an issue in this case, yes?" Rotgut asked glancing back.

"It's not an issue." Harry assured.

"For a price of five thousand Galleons, we believe it to be quite the potential piece of property. And, all renovations will be coming out of the main Potter, or Black, accounts depending on the name on the deed." Rotgut said, continuing to walk. At the door to the shack, he drew a key from his suit and opened it.

"Why is it coming out of the Main Account?" Harry asked as he followed the two Goblins inside the building, glancing around. He could already see that it was going to need cleaning and furniture. Everything was torn apart and there was an inch of dust on every surface at the very least.

Harry held his hand up against the wall, splaying his hand out at the look of claw marks. Whatever had done it had been rather big. "There were locks on the outside, yes?" he asked a bit curious.

"Yes, the locks were on the outside. Even the windows are charmed against being broken." Rotgut answered as he began to look around, coming up with ideas and modifications that could be done. "The reason the cost of the refurbishment and upgrades comes out of the main account is that it's less of a personalized spending like an Heir might do, and more of a family investment that will be used by future generations. Realistically, most Heirs don't use their entire trust funds while they have access to them. They use a small portion, the funds get refilled." He found a small passage way and noticed that it looked like it could be locked from the outside as well.

"They were trying to keep something inside." Harry said after a moment. "Something relatively dangerous. There is a sort of dark magical residue still here." He said. It would also explain why nothing had taken shelter.

Ironskull found a cellar door and opened it up before leading down into the chilly cellar. "Mr. Potter, you might wish to come see this!" Ironskull called out.

Harry made his way down the stairs and looked at the large cell that made up the majority of area. Ironskull went up to one of the bars. "Cold iron, naturally resistant to magic." Ironskull said.

Harry nodded, glancing around. He then began to move about the rest of the cellar, examining everything. The whole event took much of the morning and that was even examining the outside to see what they could do for aesthetic qualities. Finally, they were back in the living room once more. Harry glanced to his account managers. "Well?" he asked.

Rotgut had gone down the tunnel a ways before he felt the wards of Hogwarts. "Hmm, I think five thousand might be too generous. We might be able to get them down to three thousand Galleons. There's a secret passage that leads somewhere out onto Hogwarts. It will take a lot of work. But with a good team, you can have this place livable by…" He glanced to Ironskull.

"Summer." Ironskull said. "Though, the Wards won't be in place."

"It's fine." Harry said. "I plan to put some of my own wards up, powerful pieces that are similar to the sort around Hogwarts." After all, it was Rowena Ravenclaw who had come up with the Death Wards he was planning to put around his home.

"Do you wish for us to go ahead and purchase it?" Rotgut asked.

Harry nodded. "Put it in the Potter name." he said. "We'll work out all the details that are needed to be done by our secure postal drops. For now, get someone in here to clean up and repair everything. Throw out the furniture; try to get some more comfortable things. Look towards the mundane side of things for the comfort."

Rotgut took some quick notes down, nodding his head. "When we visit one of the Potter Estates later, we can send over one of the House Elves to start the repairing process."

Harry nodded and glanced around. "Also see about maybe modernizing it a bit. I understand the tradition behind everything, but I wouldn't mind electricity being able to come to my house someway."

Rotgut and Ironskull spoke a moment in the Goblin tongue, seemingly debating something. Rotgut then turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, your mother and father had bought a small home in a suburb of London. It's nothing fancy, but it is equipped with modern amenities that we at Gringotts could study. Everything will be put back in order of course, but we might be ripping things apart to understand the technical components of things. We would only be able to do this with your permission, otherwise adding modern amenities to this shack could take some time. It would also allow us to offer you a discounted service towards future use of the techniques we learn. It won't exactly be electricity the way the Muggles do it, but it will do the same functions."

Harry glanced between the two Goblins. "And you'll be able to use these techniques to bring every one of my homes up to a bit more of a modern standard?" he asked to which he received two nods. "Then do it. I trust the Goblins of Gringotts will make sure to return everything to working order."

"Of course." Rotgut said simply, jotting down notes. A silver pocket watch was opened and checked. "We have some time before the Portkey will go off. I believe some lunch is in order."

Harry nodded and began to move with the Goblins. "Forgive me, but will businesses kick a Goblin out?" He knew the Bigotry towards Goblins was still quite high.

"Not unless they're idiots." Ironskull said with a bit of a rattling cackle. "Goblins always have a wealth of gold, and even if we're begrudging to part with it, we always pay our due. Thievery is not allowed among the Goblins."

Harry nodded slightly, understanding the sentiment. He guessed they would be a fool indeed to deny the Goblins business.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry stumbled slightly as the Portkey deposited him and the two account managers in a strange place. "Where are we?" he asked. They were going over the second House for the day, and he hadn't been told much about it.

In fact, he hadn't been told a damned thing.

Then he felt it. Harry's spine straightened up and he began to walk with a purpose, quickly finding a small shack where he paused outside. His fist tightened up a bit. He could feel the magic around the place. He could feel the dark wards waiting to be tripped.

Rotgut breathed a bit, having been running to keep up with Harry. "Mr. Potter, this is the last remaining property of the Gaunt family. They are the last remaining descendants of Cadmus Peverell. The Gaunt family lives no more. We believe this," he drew a notebook to check his notes. "Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior, to have been Voldemort."

Harry turned his attention to Rotgut at the name of his parents' killer. "Where are you going with this Master Rotgut?" Harry asked.

"By Right of Conquest, you claim the Houses of Tom Marvolo Riddle. This included Slytherin and Gaunt. Now, there is no gold to their name in the very slightest, the Gaunt family squandered it all away. There is a Hogwarts Vault in Gringotts that only the Headmaster or all four Heirs to the Founders can open." Rotgut explained taking a moment and drawing air in deep before letting it out. "In essence, while you have virtually nothing to Slytherin or Gaunt and won't be able to claim a Lordship to either, you could find the other Heirs and take control of Hogwarts as your birthright. Or in your case as your Right of Conquest."

Harry glanced to the dilapidated shack and pointed to it. "So… you managed to find Cadmus Peverell's line, which eventually became the Gaunt family. But they're all dead, including Tom Marvolo Riddle who was Voldemort."

"Yes." Rotgut said succinctly. "According to our records, Merope Gaunt had a child with Tom Riddle the senior. She died shortly after birth of their son."

Harry nodded and turned his attention to the shack. "Inside is an object." Harry said. "But the place is warded with some heavy duty dark magic. The Object is both something of mine, and a Horcrux."

Harry had found the Resurrection Stone, but it seemed the same fool had turned this object into a Horcrux as well. Not only that, but Harry had a hunch who had created all the Horcruxes. It made sense with a name like Voldemort.

Rotgut hissed in his breath as Ironskull finally hobbled up, not having the strength to run like his younger counterpart. "What did I miss?" he rasped.

"There is a Horcrux inside the Gaunt Shack." Rotgut said.

Ironskull growled a bit at that. "I shall return to Gringotts. I'll summon a detail to purge the thing as well as a demolition team. I do not think there is anything we can do for the shack."

Harry shook his head. "Flatten it. But you'll also need some Ward breakers." He said.

Ironskull nodded and removed his pocket watch from his robes. "Glory in Riches." He said and the Portkey swept him up and out of there.

It was less than an hour before more Goblins arrived and set to work. Harry watched as ward after ward was stripped from the Gaunt home, ruthlessly and utterly taken down with the idea of a Horcrux inside. Harry even watched as they began to set to work on ripping the place down, wards in place to cover their tracks and keep the mundane away.

Harry glanced to the cast iron box that a Goblin had brought out. He could feel the powerful compulsion charms on it. He hoped the Goblins knew what they were doing as the Goblin used a Portkey to take the Horcrux away. Even if they had already purged two of the things, Harry was still worried.

It wasn't until Harry returned to Gringotts with both of his Account Managers that the object was returned to him.

He thought back to Dust's words when he received the ring as he walked back to the Leaky Cauldron.

'_As the Pale Rider, you have forfeited the ability to use the Resurrection Stone. On your ring finger, it will act as a Focus for your magic, amplifying it.'_

Harry had tried it out, but he found his magic was… strange. It felt like his Wand wasn't working.

He paused outside of Olivander's and headed inside. The ringing bell sounded and soon the old man was peering out. "Ah, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?" he asked.

Harry passed over the wand, setting it on the counter between them. "I'm not sure what's wrong with my wand. It's… acting strange. Like it's not working. It still fits, but…"

Olivander glanced to the wand and lifted it up, turning it slowly in his fingers. "Ah… I see. You've grown in Magic. Most impressive… most impressive indeed. Most don't need a tuning to their wand, and even those that do are generally much older than you are."

"Tuning?" Harry asked. He had never heard of the concept.

"Yes, wand tuning is a simple process. We simply need to apply something to the wand that will strengthen the dual cores you have inside. Your magic will be stronger because your wand can now handle the full power you have now." Olivander explained as he began to go through the tools he had at his disposal.

"What else does the Tuning do?" he asked.

Olivander laid out several gems on the counter top and set the wand down. "Tuning, Mr. Potter, can be as simple as adding a crystal to the handle of the wand. This crystal will draw in the natural magic you have, a sort of bleed off effect when you carry your wand with you without casting spells. It will then use this magic to tune the cores to a higher alignment with your magic, allowing you to pump more magic through them. Most Witches and Wizards don't need anything past this. But if you have come in for a Tuning at such a young age, then I have a feeling you shall need more. For now, it will do."

Harry briefly wondered if it had to do with reclaiming his artifacts. He had retrieved the Scythe and now the Resurrection Stone. Perhaps that had enhanced his magic. It meant when he retrieved the Gauntlet, the Cloak, the Cowl, and Despair, he might need more tuning done.

He grimaced at the thought.

His fingers began to move over each of the crystal on the desk. Finally, Harry paused on a deep blue crystal. Faintly, he heard the sounds of drums beating and hooves slamming against the ground.

"Ah…" Olivander said, plucking it up. "Tears of a Valkyrie that has failed her Duty and lost the Soul of a fallen Warrior." He said. "You, Mr. Potter, are starting to terrify me. All of these symbols of Death in connection to your wand."

"How do you know it is a real Valkyrie's tears?" Harry asked. Did such things actually exist?

"Meeting a Valkyrie is not hard Mr. Potter." Olivander said as he began to secure the crystalized tears to the handle of Harry's wand. "Making her cry is another story. However, my great-great grandfather collected these tears. My family has been in the wand making business for a very, very long time. We have carefully recorded everything we have found, documented how we found it, and even when it has been used." Olivander set the wand down on the counter.

"Anything of a Valkyrie, from her tears to her hair, is considered either a symbol of death, or a symbol of battle. I believe in your wand's particular case, it is the former. That said you will likely find offensive magic easier to perform."

Harry grimaced at that. "I'm a Fortress Duelist." He said.

Olivander made a small hum with his mouth. "You could make stronger shields, but I do not know. I have never made a wand as… unique as yours. Please come again if it needs more work Mr. Potter. I am expecting great things from you and your wand. Your services today will equal fifteen galleons"

Harry nodded and put his wand away. He then paid out the fifteen Galleons before he headed out.

His magic was growing stronger already and Harry didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Dust's caw made Harry think the crow was right. Only Time would tell.

-End Chapter-

A/N: Okay… so… I was actually planning on including the tour of Potter Manor, or at least parts of it, as well as Christmas in this chapter but… I decided not to. This chapter got pretty long already.


	16. Chapter 16

Book 1

Chapter 16

Christmas, it was the one time of year that Harry never really appreciated. How could he really appreciate it? Every year he had watched as Dudley received heaping mountains of gifts whereas he had, at best, received a pair of Vernon's old socks. Jealousy like that does strange things, especially to a young child. The events had closed and hardened Harry's heart, especially after he obtained Dust.

Perhaps a small part of him was still like a child, desperate to be loved by his relatives. Unfortunately, he was tempered by a cold logic that just would not thaw. If Harry was honest with himself, he could feel that image within the Mirror of Erised slipping away from him. There would be no wife sitting behind him on Despair at this rate. Who would envision themselves marrying Death, especially when he was so cold?

Worse yet, his logic and emotions were constantly at war. Ever since arriving at Hogwarts, inwardly he had been constantly in absolute turmoil. He found himself feeling hypocritical of himself and he wasn't why or how it happened. He understood the logic behind feeling hypocritical but then again, logic and emotions both went hand in hand and warred against one another.

He was repulsed by the disrespect of others, and yet he had climbed a respected institute of Magical Learning. It would be like someone in London climbing to the top of Big Ben. While it may look impressive at the time, in hindsight it begins to look like it was disrespect. It was disrespect towards Hogwarts, something that Harry would not allow himself to commit again. The school had been an institute of Magical Learning long before many other schools had been.

Harry could understand the disrespect towards the Headmaster, and yet at the same time it felt as though he was being a hypocrite. One some form of scale, he was offering the Headmaster the respect Harry felt he deserved, and yet that still felt like just an excuse. But everything about the old man screamed at Harry not to trust him, that Dumbledore would always do what was best for Dumbledore. But Dumbledore had been the 'Leader of the Light' since World War 2. And even before that he had an impressive history.

Sorted to Gryffindor House, Prefect in Fifth year, Head Boy in Seventh year, Valedictorian with holding the highest scores of his year group all seven years running, Dumbledore's achievements in school were nothing to scoff at. Then he went on to hold a tri-mastery in Enchanting, Alchemy, and Transfiguration. His achievements were impressive. It was all a matter of knowing where to look for said achievements. He was also creeping up on holding the office of Headmaster of Hogwarts for the longest length of time.

Perhaps what bothered Harry a lot was how much he was shaping up to be like Dumbledore. He knew that when Fifth year rolled around, Flitwick would strongly consider his name for being a Prefect. He wasn't positive of his status on the scoring, but he was almost certain that he was among the top five. The parallels between Dumbledore and Harry were… frightening to say the least.

They had also both defeated a Dark Lord.

Harry shook the distressing thoughts from himself quite physically. He would do better from then on. He wasn't sure on his stance with Dumbledore, but he would try to be a little more polite to him, and he hadn't climbed the school since that first time, and he scrapped all ideas to do so again.

Perhaps he could do something in the Room of Requirements, a big rock wall or something for him to work with.

Harry put on his slacks and his dress shirt. The wand holster went on first, looking to the blue crystal that was the proof of his tuned wand. Valkyries were credited with the duty of ferrying the souls of dead warriors to Valhalla. It was no surprise that that crystal had called out to him. He then summoned the Harvester to his hand, feeling it wrap around his left arm. The ivory bone color of the multi-tool stood out as a nice contrast of the black sleeve of his shirt. He put the knife along his right forearm, but where his wand was on the inside, the knife was on the outside. It allowed him to draw it with his left hand while also summoning his wand to his right hand.

He drew his black robes around his shoulders and rolled his shoulders a bit. The heating charms sewn into the insides would help keep him warm as he buttoned them up properly. Most robes were worn open in the front, but winter robes tended to be able to be buttoned to help keep the wearer warm. A Ravenclaw colored scarf was wrapped around his neck. He held his right hand out for Dust and helped the crow settled in the robes and under the scarf so that the top of his head rested against Harry's chin.

Dust needed to come with to know where things were after all.

Harry finished buttoning the robes up and shifted his hands to his pockets before stepping towards his door. He locked it behind him and headed down to the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom was wiping up the counter a bit, with breakfast cooking behind him.

Tom looked surprised as he glanced up. "Are ya leavin' Lad?" He asked. "On Christmas day?" he asked.

Harry chuckled slightly. "I have business with the Goblins until I return back to Hogwarts I'm afraid. We could have handled it during the summer months, but I tend to like to get business done as quickly as possible. It's looking like my summer is shaping up to be just as busy as it is." Harry was almost passed Tom. "Besides, you should know the Goblins, Tom. They don't celebrate Christmas. To them it's just another slow day."

Harry then headed back towards the wall and his wand flicked out, tapping the bricks quickly enough. He liked Tom the Barkeep. He was a simple soul. There was no hidden agenda to him. He'd likely be quick to give up the chance to make a few Galleons if it meant helping someone.

Harry glanced around Diagon Alley in a bit of amazement as he began to walk towards Gringotts. Every time he had been there it had been bustling with activity. Now it was devoid of life, shops closed up and lamps darkened. It was interesting to see how Christmas affected businesses like this. To Harry, Christmas was shaping up to be just another day of the year. Yet the Shops were all closed. Even a glance down Knockturn Alley showed it to be quite empty and darker than usual.

Harry entered Gringotts to see his two Account Managers already waiting for him. "Master Rotgut, Master Ironskull." He said politely as he moved closer to the two.

"Mr. Potter." Rotgut said and handed over a box. "Inside that box holds the Potter Signet ring for the heir. It will only accept a Potter's finger."

Harry accepted the box and opened it. A simple silver ring with a ruby on it sat inside. He took the ring out and tucked the box into his robes. He noticed an inscription inside but he put the ring on, feeling the overly large ring sizing itself to his finger. "What would have happened had I not been a Potter?" he asked.

"It would have shrunk until your finger snapped off." Rotgut said. "There are a few benefits to the ring. It can act as an emergency Portkey to Potter Manor; it will ward off minor hexes, curses, and jinxes. It will even warm slightly in the presence of a harmful substance keyed into the ring. There is a tome inside the Potter Manor that will allow you to update the definition of said Harmful substances. It's quite the work of enchanting art behind that ring."

Harry nodded, looking to the ring a bit more. "I take it there is a similar ring for the Black Family?" he asked Ironskull.

The aged Goblin nodded. "I'll give that over to you when we go to the Black Ancestral Home." He said.

Harry nodded and then looked between the two Account Managers. "Whenever you're ready." He said, offering his hand.

Rotgut placed his pocket watch in Harry's hand, holding the chain. Ironskull placed his fingers on top of the watch, making sure to touch the Portkey. Rotgut then said something in Latin that Harry couldn't understand in the slightest before he felt the now familiar yank behind his naval.

Harry found himself landing on a road leading up to an impressive looking gate. He didn't see a manor anywhere, though he saw plenty of trees. Briefly, he wondered where exactly in Britain they were at. Still, he began to follow Rotgut up towards that gate. He wondered where exactly Potter Manor was too. He didn't see anything beyond that gate.

Rotgut held up a key and offered it to Harry. "This will unlock the gate, thus removing the stasis charms placed upon the Manor. Stasis charms lock it in a sort of pocket dimension that will keep looters out."

Harry accepted the key and went up to the gate. Just under the mouth of the Griffin there was a slot. He put the key in and turned, hearing the clicking of the lock. He also felt a rush of magic flow over him and the feel of wards coming up.

Harry glanced up in awe and wonder at the sight of Potter Manor. It was three stories in height and quite large in length wise. Harry watched the gate open and he stepped through. High hedges lined the path, covered in snow but neatly trimmed.

About halfway up to the path were two stone statues flanking the path. It was a pair of riders sitting atop Griffins, a halberd in their hands. When Harry made his way between them, those halberds flashed down, blocking his and the Goblin's path. He could even see where the Stone had been fused to metal, allowing for a sharp and gleaming edge to the halberd. He heard grinding stone and glanced up, seeing the two statues looking to him.

Harry stood straighter and held his head up. "I am the Potter Heir and I demand you stand down." He said firmly. He was not going to be attacked by what were undoubtedly just one set of the defenses of his home.

Harry could feel himself being weighed and measured by the guards. He would be attacked if he wasn't the Potter heir. He could see the Griffins had metal talons and teeth as well, enhancing their lethality. Stone was good and all, but it seemed the Potters wanted to make sure whoever attacked them wouldn't be walking away without scratches.

Finally, the guardian statues went back to their silent vigil, staring down the pathway. Their halberds rose up once more into a ready position.

Harry continued down the path. He could feel excitement bubbling up inside of him. He was in the manor were generations of Potters were raised. He could even feel the powerful magic surrounding the area. It prickled along his skin, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise up.

He paused at the set of double doors made of heavy ebony wood. The Griffin symbol, something he was coming to equate with the Potter family, was once more on the door. Harry glanced to the key in his hand before he saw Rotgut handing him a bronze key.

He accepted the key and used that one instead on the door, feeling it click. The excitement bubbled up more inside of him and he found himself smiling like a loon as he strode into the foyer of his home. Ivory granite covered the floor, with tall pillars done in crimson going up to the roof. A spiral staircase made from marble made its way up to the second floor.

But it was the Coat of Arms that drew Harry's gaze. Displayed dominantly on a red wall the Coat of Arms was impressive to say the least. It was a shield, flanked by twin Griffins facing away from it. Twin swords crossed behind the shield with a wand jutting down between them. A large 'P' stood upon the face of the shield with a Latin phrase underneath it.

"What does the phrase mean?" Harry asked Rotgut. He couldn't read Latin yet. It was something he would change in the near future.

"The Last Enemy that shall be Destroyed is Death." Rotgut said respectfully beside Harry. "It has been the Potter Motto for centuries. They have never once feared the cold embrace of the afterlife, but nor had they sought it. They went to it with their arms open, embracing it when it was their time."

Harry moved up towards the Coat of Arms and lightly ran his fingers along the inscription. He was home. He was finally home where he belonged. He felt something stirring inside of him and he felt wetness on his cheeks. He realized he was crying after a moment, but he couldn't seem to find himself to care.

Dust's caw broke him out of his revelry and he glanced down slightly, shaking his head.

Harry took a moment to wipe his face from the tears and bowed his head a bit. He turned on his heel to face both Rotgut and Ironskull. "I believe a tour is in order."

"Millie would be the Head House Elf." Rotgut said. "I would call upon her to start the tour."

Harry nodded and took a breath. "Millie!" he called out.

Pop. Harry glanced down to see a female elf with wide blue eyes watering up. "Master Harry!" she cried out, clinging to his legs. "We's thinkings you nevers shows." She wore what looked like a nice powder blue dress.

Harry blinked a bit, trying to understand a little bit. "Millie," That was going to get confusing with Millicent having that nickname. "I'm home now. I might be making some renovations through the Goblins, but for now I need to know what's what. I need a tour."

Millie nodded and grabbed his hand with the Potter Heir ring on it. He felt a spark of magic between them, undoubted the House Elf bonding and accepting him as her proper master. She then began to lead the way, speaking. "I's handles the cookings. I's cooks your meals, I's cooks your guests meals. I's Heads elf, beens that ways since Mistress Lily. Puck handles cleanings of the House withs Tripsy."

Harry was led through a sitting room where the two elves in question bowed to him. Harry was impressed with what he was seeing of the Potter home. It would need some modern amenities that frankly he was planning on all of his homes to have. He saw the rather spotless kitchens and figured that Millie would enjoy some appliances to help with her cooking.

He was also certain she'd enjoy being able to store food in a refrigerator to make things a little easier for her.

"Twilly handles the greenhouses. You has four greenhouses Master Harry." Millie said, continuing to lead him through, eventually to the back where he saw the greenhouses for himself. "One for fruits, one for vegetables, one for potions, one to rest. Twilly rotates them every harvest."

Harry saw the House elf in question and raised a brow slightly. Its appearance was different than what he had expected. First it was tanned to a deep earthen brown and it was carrying a stick with a single leave sticking out of the top. A pair of shorts told Harry that the greenhouses were climate controlled.

Harry was led away by Millie again, smiling a bit as the elf continued to speak, sometimes talking about the rooms and how it wanted to throw a formal ball in the ball room that Puck and Tripsy would be in charge of cleaning up. Harry caught a glimpse into it and knew that it was going to be quite the party if he let his house elves throw it.

"Hermy watches the birdies for you Master Harry." Harry glanced to the 'birds' that the House Elf was talking about. In a paddock that had plenty of space for them to rest and relax, not having to worry about the cold of the winter were four Griffins. Somehow, Harry wasn't surprised his family had them.

Harry continued following Millie, listening as she spoke. She said there was a grand total of fifteen spare bedrooms outside the master bedroom, ten full and four half bathrooms outside the master bedroom, and three kitchens. There was a library, a vault, the ballroom, a laboratory, an armory, two sitting rooms, a formal dining room, an informal dining room, and a parlor to entertain guests in. All in all, Potter manor hit a whopping three hundred and sixty two thousand square feet. It also sat in the middle of fifty acres of land, making certain that Harry had no neighbors for quite some distance.

It was also the biggest of all of his properties by a significant margin.

Rotgut explained at the end of the tour that it was going to cost Harry quite the sum to modernize Potter Manor. Still, Harry gave the order for it to be done. He also knew that it would be done before the summer holidays hit.

Eventually however, Harry saw the two Goblins off. He would be staying inside Potter Manor that night. He would Floo to the Leaky Cauldron in the morning when it was time to meet with the two Goblins again for the next set of properties before he went to spend an hour with the Abbot and the Bones families.

When they were gone, Harry turned and began to walk through his home once more, eventually making his way down to the massive vault that the Potter Family used to store their riches and other things before Gringotts was founded.

In his awe over his Family's home, Harry found himself missing the obvious sensation. That was until Dust had reminded him about it. Harry glanced to the crow sitting on his shoulder, nodding slightly. He unlocked the vault and watched the doors begin to swing open, revealing a cache of just about everything the Potter family would need.

Old wands, fabrics, trophies, money, books, there were even a few caskets down there. But Harry found himself stepping past all of that, heading instead for the one object that was stashed away behind a glass case with a big parchment of warning before it, trying to warn away those that it did not belong to.

Harry removed his robes and set it to the side before he rolled the sleeve of his dress shirt up. He removed the Harvester and set it against the wall, looking to the glass case as he undid the latches, opening it quite effortlessly.

Inside was the Gauntlet.

The Dominion Gauntlet was quite the powerful item for the Pale Rider. It would allow Death the capabilities of controlling those associated with Death such as Dementors, Lethifolds, Vampires, Ghouls, Zombies, Inferi. In fact, using the Gauntlet, Harry could summon up a legion of the creatures, all ready to fight.

The Dominion Gauntlet also allowed for him to destroy Dementors on a whim and even create them using a very complex ritual. The Gauntlet was one very impressive piece of magic.

Briefly, Harry wondered why such a magical artifact that would be so dangerous to anyone but the Pale Rider was locked so effortlessly. Surely his ancestor that had found it would have put better protections upon it. Even still, Harry soon looked at the silver gauntlet.

It had grooves and a depression wrapping around it and ending on the hand where the Harvester was meant to go. Harry lightly ran his fingertips along those grooves, sigh softly in delight. Another artifact reclaimed, he just had two more and Despair.

Finding the others would in fact be easier. The more artifacts he found, the better capable of sensing the rest of the artifacts he became. Even now, he was getting a ping in two different directions from the rest of the artifacts. Granted, the Invisibility Cloak could not be found that way, but Dust kept reassuring him that it would come to him.

Harry lifted the Dominion Gauntlet up and rotated it around in his hand a bit. There were no latches to it, no straps, nothing to risk it coming off mid-battle. Briefly he worried that it would be too big to fit properly along his arm.

Finally, he slipped it onto his hand and he felt the metal begin to shrink down along his arm and hand until it was a nice and snug fit. He felt the surge of power along his left arm and the feeling settle in his stomach. He checked his hand's mobility in the gauntlet and found it to have its full range of motion still.

"Argh!" Harry cried out as what felt like a dozen needles slammed into his forearm, piercing all the way to the bones of his arm. He grabbed at the gauntlet, trying to do something to pry it off but it also felt like he was forcing the needles to pull in his arm.

Finally, he watched as black spots along the gauntlet fill with blood, changing from a void-like black to the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood. There didn't seem to be any logic to the markings either, but it gave the appearance of the gauntlet being scaled. It wasn't until every single one of those scales was full that Harry felt the needles recede.

He pulled at the gauntlet and felt it enlarge and go limp as he quickly threw it off of his hand. It clattered in its case while Harry looked over his arm. Amazingly however, his arm was completely fine. Not a single marking on it.

Dust's caw reverberated in Harry and he glanced back to the gauntlet. "The Gauntlet can act as a substitute sacrifice for when I can't procure one…" he said thoughtfully, lifting it back up. Once for each of the scales, and there were fifteen scales along the Gauntlet.

It wouldn't refill until the next Pale Rider offered their blood. It was for emergencies only.

Harry slid it back on and felt it resize on his arm. He opened his hand to grab the Harvester but found that it came to his hand without him even summoning it. He was quite surprised. He then watched as his skeletal weapon wrapped itself neatly in the grooves of the Dominion Gauntlet, resting itself on the back of his hand. Then the Harvester took on a strange silver hue with its empty eyes turning green like emeralds.

It looked to be part of the gauntlet now.

Harry turned away and gently shut the glass case. He then began to head upstairs, out of the Vault since he no longer needed to be in it.

"Master Harry, mails heres!" Millie called out.

Harry looked a bit surprised at that and came up a little faster towards the informal dining room where he had planned to take his lunch that Millie was cooking. He was surprised to see the table having quite a number of parcels on them. "Mille what are these?" he asked, moving towards the table. The wards wouldn't have allowed anything harmful past.

"I's thinkings theys presents." Millie said. "Master Harry has lotsa friends?"

"Millie, you and the other House Elves didn't need to get me anything, you know that right?" Harry asked. Who else would have gotten him presents for Christmas?

Millie's ears drooped and her head looked down. "We's not thinkings you comes this year Master Harry. We's bad elves, we's not gets our Master anythings."

Harry lightly placed his hand on Millie's head. "It's okay Millie." He said softly. "Like you said, you and the others didn't know I was coming. You had no way of knowing. I'll set you and the other elves up with a bit of a stipend so you can have spending money to buy things you want to buy." Harry said.

Millie's eyes went wide at this as she looked up. She hugged him tightly around his thighs. "Master Harry is too kind!" she cried out, almost wailing really.

Harry didn't even mind the elf hugging his legs as he moved over towards the table that had the presents. This… presented a dilemma. He had not in all honesty anticipated any presents that year. And generally speaking, it was polite to send a present in return when getting one. Yet, he hadn't been shopping in the slightest for presents and he hadn't planned any time to go shopping for presents.

He went over to them and began to open them slowly and carefully, taking his time. The first thing he got was from Hermione of all people. He couldn't help but chuckle at the gift. It was simple, and more of a joke, but it was thoughtful. He picked up the Halloween costume piece. A skull mask, to go with his Grim Reaper costume from the past Halloween.

He found himself opening the next one. It was a knitted sweater of dark blue with a bronze letter 'H' on the front. It also had a tin of sweets that he set aside. There was also a coupon to Zonko's Joke shop, and a small Wizard's chess set. Gifts from the Weasley family.

The next package was from Hagrid, a book on the care of Thestrals with hand written anecdotes that gave extra tips. Of course, it looked like Hagrid got someone to write for him. But there was also a photo album of his parents, waving to him. Harry felt his eyes starting to mist up.

The next item was from Millicent. She had gotten him a book on Illusions from her family's personal library. It was a very touching gift, and she hoped to compare notes when they got back to Hogwarts.

Next was from Flitwick, hand written parchments and vials of memories of Flitwick's experience against Fortress Duelists. There was also a book on the style of a Fortress Duelist, written by a renowned champion. A set of dragon hide dueling gloves finished it up.

Susan's letter said she'd give her gift to him the next day when he went to visit for Boxing Day, something that was perfectly fine by him.

Harry's eyes filled with tears as he finally sat down. He had never experienced this sort of friendship before and it was completely alien to him. He breathed a bit heavily, not sure where all this was coming from. But Harry felt something harden inside of him, a set course that he would do no matter what. It wasn't just to be polite, but Harry was going to get a gift for everyone who had gotten something for him. They were his friends.

It hit him like a ton of bricks to the stomach.

That was why Flitwick wanted Harry to start using people's first names. He wanted him to make friends and to warm up to them. They were his friends because they cared for him and he wanted to see them happy.

Harry glanced to his wand, trying to figure out how the diminutive professor intended to incorporate it into Dueling. Why? Why was making friends important to dueling? A brief flash of an image in his mind and he had his answer. He felt pure, undiluted rage filling up inside of him. His eyes sparked and his hand turned to bone almost instantly as a cold air filled around him. He could feel the Harvester rattling on his left hand, wanting to be used to rip and tear.

Dust's caw and Millie's panicked cries got him to calm himself down though. He clenched his hand so tight he started to bleed from his palm.

Woe to anyone that hurt any of the people he considered friends. A simple image of Millicent being bullied had Harry's rage higher than he had ever had it before. And the sensation was new to him. The sensation of friendship was new, and he would fight to protect it. He would fight to keep it safe.

He might even kill to keep it safe.

Harry glanced to the last package on the table and pulled the parcel over to him. The note on it was unsigned and Harry didn't recognize the hand writing. '_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time to return it. Use it well.'_

He opened it up and felt his heart beginning to race. He ran his hand over the silvery substance in the package with his eyes wide. He swept it out and looked to it. The invisibility cloak had returned to him at last.

He swept it around his shoulders effortlessly, letting it flutter over his form. He felt the rush of power and energy flow through him, the cloak once more recognizing that it was with Death. With its original master once more, the cloak changed from being simply an Invisibility cloak.

Harry watched as the cloak turned to an inky black color and he moved over to the wall, pressing against it and finding the cloak changing to match the wall. He stepped from the wall and it turned to the inky black once more. He pulsed his magic into it and it turned invisible, completely hiding Harry once more. The cloak was so much more than it used to be, so much more than it was in a normal Wizard's hands.

Another pulse of magic and it returned to the normal color. Harry summoned his Deathly Aura and watched as mist began to billow out from around him and the cloak. He began to walk; purposefully using heavy footfalls, yet the cloak muffled them and made his footsteps silent like the grave.

Harry couldn't help it as he stopped using the cloak. He began to laugh loudly. He didn't care how the Owls had gotten to him. But this had been his best Christmas ever.

He was home once more!

A second thought almost had Harry cursing though as he glanced to his wand. Would it still be strong enough to contain his magic after the increases from the Gauntlet and the cloak?

-End Chapter-

A/N: Holy crap, I had not anticipated this chapter being so long with just Christmas. I was expecting to have to throw in Boxing Day at the very least.

Ah well, just means I have more to work with for the next chapter.

Peace!


	17. Chapter 17

Book 1

Chapter 17

Harry dressed himself in a bit of casual clothes, which admittedly wasn't all that casual. A pair of slacks and a long sleeved sweater was not necessarily casual, but they were as casual as he got. He tried to tame his crow's nest of hair a bit, but knew it was a lost cause.

He double checked everything. While he wasn't taking his Death Artifacts, aside from the Resurrection Stone inlaid on the Peverell ring, he still was taking his wand and his knife with him. He never knew when it would be needed after all and it had helped a bit with the troll.

He thought about that and shook his head. Not something he really wanted to think about really, there had been a lot of luck involved in the troll as well. Had it not been so irritable, it would have likely gone into a corridor and then they would definitely have a problem.

"Dust." Harry called for his familiar and felt the crow land on his shoulder. He then headed down to the Leaky Cauldron proper. He passed Tom a few Galleons for use of the Floo. While not required, it was polite to do so according to some of the other patrons. Floo Powder wasn't necessarily expensive, but he was using some to leave anyways.

He took a pinch and tossed it into the fire, watching them blaze emerald green. "The Ossuary!" he called as he stepped through. It was a quick slide and a hop before he was out in the Bones Ancestral home.

Harry came out of the grate and immediately paused, taking a glance around him. He looked to the dark hardwood floors he was standing on and noticed the entire house seemed to be done in them, at least as far as he could tell. It gave the home a more homely feeling to it really. He made a mental note to talk to Rotgut and Ironskull about it; perhaps in a few of the homes they could do wooden floors.

A crack announced the arrival of a House Elf. He bowed slightly. "Sir, the Mistress has been expecting you." Harry was surprised at the articulation of the House Elf. It was rather interesting.

But Harry didn't budge. "And how do you know who I am?" Harry asked staring to the House Elf in a butler suit.

"The Mistress' other guests have arrived, I can see your Heir ring, the Mistress is not expecting any other visitors, and I can feel my sister Mille's energy around you, meaning you have been to Potter Manor. Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity Master Potter?" The House elf asked.

"You must be Edmund." Harry said. Millie spoke highly of her younger brother who served a different family. It was not uncommon for younger elf siblings to serve different families. It kept the lines from inter-breeding, keeping the Elf Magic strong.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master Potter. Now, just a moment while I clear the ash from your clothes." Edmund summoned some of his elf magic, literally vanishing the ash from Harry's clothes and the floor where Harry had come out. "It would not due to trail ash all over the Mistress' home." Once Edmund had finished he nodded. "Right then, follow me please." Edmund turned and began to walk away.

Harry followed behind him. "How do Elves get their names?" he asked after a moment.

"Generally, the House Elves' sire and dame give them their names, at least for the first born. Later Elf children, if they are passed on to a different family are given a name by the family. The Mistress' late father gave me the name of Edmund. It had been the name of one of his dearest friends." Edmund said.

"Susan's father or her grandfather?" Harry asked. He wasn't exactly sure who the Elf would consider as the Mistress of the home.

"Susan's grandfather." Edmund said as he led Harry up the stairs.

Harry got a good look around, trying to look at everything. True to their last name, much of the Bones' family home looked quite like bones. Though whether that was magic in play or actual bones was debatable. It almost looked like a dark family's home, not that he would judge of course. It was still a magnificent home, as magnificent as the Potter Manor was.

Edmund paused in his steps and Harry paused as well, watching as two elves hustled by with a large table. They then continued on, letting Harry take a look around more. The home was definitely opulent. But at the same time, Harry could see the humbleness to it. There wasn't expensive forms of art hanging all around, plants sat in many of the corners, obviously for decoration.

There was no marble like in the Potter Manor, except for the pillars in the main entry way and, as Edmund told Harry as they walked, in the formal Ball room. It was all wood, polished to a nice shine. Edmund explained that there was a House Elf whose sole job was to polish all the wood in the house, a very long process that could not be broken up among other elves that had other jobs.

It seemed Edmund ran as tight of a ship as Millie did. It was almost scary how much of Millie he saw in Edmund. Briefly he wondered what their parents had been like to have this sort of efficiency. Or was it trained?

Edmund opened a set of large double doors that were made of a fine crafted wood. "Presenting the Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter." He called out.

"Harry!" The boy in question saw Susan stand up and move over.

"Edmund, I've told you, you don't have to announce people in an informal setting like that." Amelia said coming over.

"It must have slipped my mind Mistress Amelia." Edmund said with a bow.

Harry saw the slight quirk of the lips on Amelia's lips that said she knew Edmund did not forget that fact. It was quite interesting to see the byplay between the family and the House Elf. Amelia then turned to face Harry a bit more properly. "Welcome to the Bones Ancestral Home Mr. Potter. Susan's told me quite a bit about you."

Harry glanced to the redhead Hufflepuff in question, arching his brow slightly, noticing the dusting of her cheeks. He then focused once more on Amelia's amused eyes. "All good things I hope. I'd hate to think I somehow got in some form of trouble."

"She says you're rather impressive with your magic, performing most spells on the first try." Amelia said, glancing to Susan for a moment. "Is that true?" she asked.

Harry inclined his head. "I take a moment to think about the spell before performing them. Though I am sure that Professor Shacklebolt might have mentioned it a few times as well," Harry said glancing over to the Auror that was sitting on the couch. "You are, after all, still his boss even if he's on loan to Hogwarts."

Amelia glanced over to Kingsley before offering a slight nod. "He says that you'd make a good Auror. Interested?"

"Not in the slightest." Harry said shaking his head with a chuckle. "I'm doing enough paperwork dragging my family business back up to new glories. Being an Auror is undoubtedly filled with paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork with the occasional criminal thrown in the mix." Harry said. "Aside from that, I have more interest in Politics and a touch of Dueling."

The clunk of wood hitting against wood sounded and Harry turned slightly to give his full attention to the individual. It was a grizzled man, with a part of his nose missing and an electric blue false eye that spun around. "Think you can duel then?" he asked with a slight smirk.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Professor Flitwick has been teaching me a few things." Harry knew he was in the presence of Master Auror Alastor Moody. And while he had been able to learn a few things about individuals, there was not much he was able to learn about Moody, a man he had looked up when he had been collecting information on Dumbledore.

"Do you have your wand with you?" Moody asked. Harry could feel a bit of anticipation coming from the others in the room.

Harry flicked his hand up, his wand extending effortlessly from the holster so the tip was pointed between Moody's eyes. "It never leaves my presence by my own volition." He said.

Moody gave a vicious looking smirk. "I think we best take this outside."

"Won't I get in trouble for using magic outside of school?" Harry asked, turning to face Amelia slightly.

"Not in the slightest." Moody said. "The Wards around older family's homes keep the Ministry from managing to determine who is casting. It's up to the parents to enforce it."

"You do realize I'm head of the DMLE, right Moody?" Amelia said crossing her arms. "And that Kingsley is here as well."

"Then may I duel him?" Harry asked, flicking his wand away into its holster. "We'll take it outside of course. I don't expect to win, but it would be nice to see where I stand." He was going to be facing worse things than Alastor Moody eventually. Namely one Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Both Susan and Hannah looked to Amelia, desperately wanting to see it. Harry had, to most of Hogwarts, become something of an enigma. Always excelling at magic and always seemingly disappearing after classes. While he had gotten friendly with many people, he was still shrouded in a lot of mystery making it difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was about him that seemed to make people wanted to try and figure him out.

Amelia glanced to the green eyes of Harry before flicking her eyes up to look at Moody. She then turned on Susan. "No magic here during the breaks, like we've discussed before. I'm your legal guardian and while you could perform it, I'm enforcing the no magic during breaks. Hannah, the same to you while you're here at my house. I can't enforce it while you're at your home, but while here you are not to perform magic." Amelia then focused her gaze on Harry. "Just this once. After that, if you perform magic at my home, I will report it. Am I understood?" she asked

"Understood Madam Bones." Harry said simply. He was practically trembling with excitement at the idea he was about to face off against Moody. Flitwick was building him up, yes, but he also knew he needed a good slice of humble pie from time to time. It would give him something to strive for, something to make him succeed even more.

Both men moved outside, Amelia directing them. Harry could see everyone was interested in seeing it. No doubt many of them remembered Flitwick from when he had taught them. If he had taken a special interest in someone, no doubt there was something special to be seen.

Harry embraced the cold as they moved a ways away from the house. It was still within the wards, Harry was certain. He allowed Dust to fly up and begin to circle around overhead. Harry slowly began to seep up his Aura, embracing the cold and letting it fill through him. He felt the Peverell ring pulse slightly as he stepped back slightly. He flicked his hand, his wand coming out to rest in a firm but flexible grip.

Moody had limped his way to a good starting point. They were only ten feet away from one another, dangerous ground against someone like Moody. Flitwick had told Harry a little bit of each example of Duelist, giving a bit of pros and cons and an example of a person that was that type of Duelist.

Moody was what was simply known as a Quick-draw Duelist. He was wickedly fast at casting and uncannily accurate with his spells. The biggest downside to a Quick-draw was they tended to give up power to cast faster and they had to work on the accuracy part. Moody also was quite capable of rapidly throwing chains. Not quite a Spell Weaver, but definitely a bad match up for a Fortress. Moody also had gotten his spells to be strong, even with his casting through years of practice.

"I'm not going to go easy on you Potter. I won't kill you, but I won't go easy either." Moody said before suddenly lashing out with a _Reducto_. The silently cast, point and fire spell was quite the surprise for Harry.

He had expected them to respect the etiquette of dueling.

Harry dove to the side into the snow, his wand flashing up. "_Protego." _He said as the next two _Reducto_ spells slammed into his cast shield. He got himself back on his feet quickly enough, a _Bombarda_ slamming into the ground where he had been.

Harry ignored the debris as he began to move, slipping from left and right. His Aura was as high as it would go without him starting to turn skeletal. He didn't want to alert anyone after all about who he was. Harry rolled out of the way out of some more spell work. Harry wasn't sure what they were until they hit with Moody, but the grizzled Auror seemed to have no problem using some heavy duty fighting.

Harry raised a wall of thick ice, letting it take two _Reducto _spells for him_. _Harry spun around from the wall and lashed his hand out, launching a lance of ice at Moody, forcing the Master Auror to dodge. The lance simply had too much mass and momentum to simply shield again. Harry took the moment that Moody was on the ground to attempt to advance.

His knife flicked out of its sheath and into his left hand. Moody however rolled with his dodge, throwing cursed Harry's way with surprising swiftness, forcing Harry to back off. "Dust!" he roared out and watched the circling crow speed down, forming into a black arrow once more to try and spear Moody.

Moody managed to get up onto his feet and get out of the way once more before he began to throw more at Harry. Everything was done silently and when he could without wand motions. Harry was forced to throw up more shields, both magical and physical.

Harry advanced though, pushing ahead as he could. Moody didn't like moving too much, his leg not allowing it. Harry eventually made it within striking distance of Moody and his knife slashed out, aiming to take out Moody's other leg.

Unfortunately, Moody caught the knife with his other hand, clasping a strong grip on Harry's wrist before his wand came up. Harry felt himself caught in the chest with a spell, he had been trying to get his wand over to Moody, but the fact of the matter was simple. He hadn't been fast enough.

Harry was blasted through the air and hit the ground hard, darkness overtaking him.

Harry came to a while later, giving a soft groan. His chest and back felt tight as he sat up.

"Harry, you're awake!" Spoke the rich and deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry shook his head slightly, trying to clear it up a bit. "Yeah." He said softly and moved himself so he was sitting on the couch instead of laying on it. "What happened?" he asked.

"You lost." Moody said from an opposite couch.

"Move!" Harry glanced up to see Kingsley being shooed away by Hannah's mother. She squatted down slightly and began to wave her wand before Harry. "I'm Healer Cassandra Abbot. How do you feel Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"My chest feels tight, same with my back." Harry said, not going to refuse a trained healer glancing him over.

"Both points of impact. Mad-Eye's spell hit you rather hard." She said and paused, waving her hand over a certain part of his side. She frowned slightly, glancing up to Harry's green eyes. "Mr. Potter, I'm getting unusual readings from your left side." She said.

Harry debated for a moment, not sure what the readings were. "It was an accident. I'll be fine, I promise." Harry said.

It was obviously Hannah's mother did not like that explanation one bit. "I should be ordering you to Saint Mungo's." she said.

Harry glanced around briefly. He didn't trust any of the people in the room, not enough for them to know he had slit himself open. He decided to give a hint of truth. "I already had a Phoenix cry in and on the wound. I'm fine." Harry reiterated.

"Wound?" Amelia asked, moving forward. "Have you been attacked Mr. Potter?" she was in a professional role. "Why didn't Dumbledore report it?"

Harry unbuttoned his shirt and opened it to the left slightly, showing the rough scar from his unsuccessful operation. He looked to Amelia's eyes, his Occlumency shields locked down as tight as he could manage. "Because Dumbledore doesn't know. Madam Pomfrey doesn't know, and I'd like to keep it that way." Harry buttoned his shirt back up and stood up. "I also don't want to be interrogated on it. Simply put, it was a training accident that went wrong and I haven't tried it again."

"I can perform a simple charm to remove most of the scar tissue, but I will have to remake the incision." Cassandra said as she backed up slightly.

"No, I'd rather keep the scar, thank you. It reminds me of my own failings and keeps me grounded." Harry said politely.

"Ah, leave the boy alone." Moody said. "He learns by doing, and a scar is a good reminder of messing something up." Moody said as he took a hit from his hip flask. "But can you tell me what you did wrong in our Duel?" he asked.

Harry nodded slightly. "I underestimated you. I hadn't expected you to stop the knife like that. I knew you could pull your wand faster than I could, but I hadn't expected you stopping my hand."

"Constant Vigilance!" Moody roared out making several people jump. "You let your focus lapse for even a few seconds and you land on your arse."

"Alastor!" Amelia barked at her friend and mentor. "There are children here; there is no need for crude language."

Moody didn't look the least bit contrite. "It's a good thing you're learning Elemental Spells Potter. Keep working on them and you might actually impress me some day." Moody said.

Harry said nothing on the matter. He hadn't learned Elemental Spells. It was his Aura that allowed him to use the Ice after all. The Elemental Spells he had been working on he hadn't felt comfortable enough to use in a duel either.

Thankfully, before the silence could get awkward, Susan spoke up. "Harry, Hannah, why don't you come with me and I'll get you your presents?" she asked standing up.

Harry nodded softly and paused a moment, double checking for his wand and his knife. It should have been the first thing that he did when he woke up, but he had been interrogated when he did wake up. He felt Dust flap over to his shoulder and settle there for a moment with a slight caw.

Harry then stepped behind Susan, heading out of the room. Though, he did notice Hannah begin to follow them as well. Harry began to take in the décor a bit more, noticing portraits of various members of the Bones family going back a few centuries even. It was most impressive.

They came to Susan's room, marked by a small plaque on the door. Harry noticed it had the black and yellow colors of House Hufflepuff, complete with various images of a badge, but it also had other things. Susan's room was clean, spotless even, but it still had a lived in feel to it. The furniture was done in warm colored wood, all hand crafted by the looks of it. Hannah flopped down onto Susan's bed; the queen sized four poster bed a great deal bigger than the beds of the Ravenclaw dorms at the very least.

Harry's attention was drawn to a small table where pictures littered it, some waving up to him, some focused only on the occupants of the pictures. Harry picked one up. Susan's mother had the same red hair of Susan and Amelia, though he noticed hers was drawn back into a fancy bun with what looked like oriental hair sticks in her hair. She also had warm brown eyes. Susan's father had messy sandy blonde hair with vibrant blue eyes. Susan was even in the picture, a young girl sitting on her father's shoulders.

"My parents." Susan said from just behind him. "Death Eater sympathizers got them when I was six." She said. Her voice was detached, trying not to feel the pain to it. "Auntie Amelia caught them… but the damage had already been done."

Susan took the picture carefully. "My dad caught those hair sticks for my mom on a business trip to Japan. She loved them dearly. She had said she was going to give them to me when I got my Hogwarts letter, something to keep her close when I was at Hogwarts. The Death Eaters even took that from me. I have other things to remember her by, but I can't stop thinking about all the evenings when she'd brush my hair and pin it up with those hair sticks. I loved them." Susan whispered.

Harry gently took the picture from Susan and he focused on the jade colored hair sticks. They were about eight inches in length, plenty for a lot of hair. They were jade along the shaft, but there was also a black band of onyx around the top that held an intricate decorative piece of emerald. He set the picture back down slowly.

Closing his eyes, he held out his hand. His magic was wild and powerful. He would have to fight it for control, to keep it from lashing out. His Aura flared up, causing the area around him to get cold. The water in the air condensed around his hand, slowly extending into a pair of spikes made of ice that resembled the hair pins.

That was the easy part. Manipulating and shaping the water was something he could do in his sleep at this point. But he couldn't fail in this endeavor. He couldn't afford to.

Harry found his magical core. In his mind he could see a violent and malevolent storm of powerful green and black energy. He directed it to the hair sticks, setting down parameters. There were no wand movements or incantation to cast; it was all about intent and having the magical energy to do so. So he set down the parameters.

Thankfully it was all rock. Rock was easy to conjure, including precious gems. The long spikes were a mold, hollow and allowing it to be filled with the jade stone as he conjured it. Next was the band of onyx. He kept telling his magic to follow the mold, to not extend past the ice. He was completely focused on his task as he also began to form.

Harry opened his eyes and allowed the ice to fall apart, showing a pair of hair sticks quite similar to what Susan's mother had worn. "Here." He offered to the redhead. "I've never given a Christmas present before, never received them before this year so I don't know much about the etiquette behind it. But… But if my talents can give you at least a semblance of happiness, I'm willing to use them." Harry said. He then felt his nose begin to bleed and the world spun slightly. He lightly cupped his left hand under his nose. "Bathroom?" He followed Susan's hand pointing to the bathroom, not looking to her face.

Susan came in a moment later as Harry was letting his nose just drip down into the ceramic sink. "Harry, I'm going to go get Hannah's mother, is that alright?" she asked worriedly.

Harry nodded his head softly. He felt the world lurch and closed his eyes once more. "Yeah, that's fine." He said softly. He then heard footsteps moving away quickly.

Heavier rushing footsteps signified Cassandra was back. She began to wave her wand around him; he could hear the wood swishing through the air. "Well Mr. Potter, whatever you just did seriously drained your reserves. The amount of magic rushing through your body for what you did was destructive towards your body. If I had to guess I'd say your vision is swimming, your head is pounding with a migraine, and your eyes have a stabbing sensation."

"Yeah." Harry said softly, confirming her suspicions on what was wrong. "Did Susan like her gift?"

Cassandra paused a moment. "Yes, last I saw she was clutching them close to her chest, almost like she was afraid she was going to lose you or something. My readings show this isn't the first time you've done this."

"No. I did it in a duel against Professor Flitwick once." His Aura pulled on his magical energy. To draw ice using his naturally cold Aura pulled even more on his magical energy. Then to do conjuration, a very difficult subject, without any real training, and worse yet performing it on intermediate level object. Harry was honestly surprised he didn't pass out.

Cassandra frowned a moment. "Do not do so any more Mr. Potter. Damaging your body like that is difficult to treat because of the saturation of magical energy on the tissues. It acts like white blood cells towards foreign bodies, only in this case foreign magic. It has to naturally bleed off which can take months. Then you can get the damage treated. So unfortunately, right now I can't offer you anything for the pain. I can't even get a conclusive scan from the areas to properly diagnose the damage."

"I understand." Harry said softly with a small groan as he opened his eyes. He felt the stabbing sensation she had mentioned at the sight of the bright white stained with crimson. But he began to wash up; washing his hands and his face, as well as making sure the sink wouldn't remain stained. He then turned to look at Cassandra more fully.

"I wish you'd tell me more about what happened to your left side. It interferes with my scans as well. I'm not sure if it's the phoenix tears or something else. It feels like there is more to it than what you're telling me." Cassandra said, crossing her arms carefully.

"You really should!" Hannah said from behind her mother, causing Cassandra to jump slightly. "Mom quickly figured out that I'm a carrier for Dragon Pox. It's not contagious to be around me and I don't have any of the symptoms but I still carry it. She's really good at her job."

"Hannah," Cassandra admonished. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me? And for that matter about patient-healer confidentiality?" She asked.

Hannah's shoulders slumped. "Don't sneak up on a healer, you never know what they're going over. And patient-healer confidentiality is to be upheld unless a warrant for information is supplied by the Aurors and signed by the Wizengamot. We are there to help people, no matter the injury of malady." Hannah said with conviction.

Harry raised an eyebrow slightly, wondering about Hannah's conviction behind her statement.

"I want to be a Healer." Hannah said, seeing Harry's confusion. "Ideally, I want to do a bit of work under Madam Pomfrey before I leave Hogwarts so I have some hands-on work before I do some training at Saint Mungo's."

"What did you come up here for?" Cassandra asked a little softer.

"Well, Susan and I both wanted to give Harry his gifts today, same with Kingsley and Amelia." Hannah mentioned. "And Harry said in a letter to Amelia that he was on a tight time schedule, so she thought she'd make sure we could give Harry his gifts without conflicting with his schedule."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, trying to get the pain to ebb a little bit. "Sure." Harry said. "I'm going to have to meet with the Goblins soon enough, it might be best to do this now." Plus it got him away from Cassandra without having to try and explain that he slit himself open and put a rock inside of him.

Cassandra watched him like a hawk while he moved past her, out of the bathroom. He was certain that if she could, she'd of sent him to Saint Mungo's to run more comprehensive tests. So, he got lucky with that. Hopefully his luck would continue to hold up.

Harry followed Hannah back down to the sitting room where a few people looked worried. He waved a bit. "I apologize." Harry said as he took a seat, figuring they wouldn't mind if he sat down. "First for worrying everyone, that had not been my intention. I had never given a gift before, and the hair sticks seemed like the perfect gift to give to Susan."

"You've never given a gift before?" Kingsley asked sitting up.

Harry shrugged. "I was never given one either before this Christmas. So I get to spend the next few days scrambling to figure out what to get people. A few, I have ideas for, others not so much." He saw the sharp look that Cassandra was giving him and held up both hands. "I won't be conjuring anything more, I promise." He said hurriedly.

"So that's what they are." Amelia said plucking one of the hair sticks from her niece and looking at it. "A conjured construct. I had seen them broken, and I knew my brother had gotten a pair that was one of a kind. To see them again, it's baffling."

Harry shrugged a little bit. "I admit it was difficult to do. Ridiculously difficult to do even, but I think it was worth it."

Susan nodded softly. "It was thank you." She said brightly as she took the hair stick back from her Aunt and quickly swept her hair up with both of them. She then stood up and gave Harry his gift, a hand knitted blue and bronze scarf with Ravens that flew around on it. "I made it myself." She said a bit proudly.

Harry smiled a bit as he ran his hand over the scarf. It was a simple gift, but he enjoyed it. "Thank you Susan." He said as he laid it in his lap. "It's perfect." He offered.

Hannah moved over then and offered a book. "It's filled with basic medical spells and things of that nature." She said. "I copied some of my notes from when I practiced them into the book." She said.

Harry chuckled a little bit as he accepted the book. "As accident prone as I am at times, it is a very good thing to have, so thank you."

Kingsley brought over another book and passed it to Harry.

Harry looked down and then up to Kingsley. "You got me a book on Quidditch." He said in a flat tone.

"Someone always gets the gag gift Harry; you were just the easiest target this year." Kingsley said before chuckling that deep and rich laugh he had.

Harry grumbled slightly but he tucked it away. It was at least worth a read. "Still no interest!" he declared.

Amelia chuckled as she moved over and handed Harry a silver pocket watch.

Harry glanced up to Amelia, his confusion undoubtedly showing on his face. He glanced back down to the pocket watch and clicked it open, surprised to see a mirror on the reverse of the lid. He glanced back up to Amelia.

"Being Heir of House Potter means you need to know things that are generally passed down from the Lord and Lady of the family, down to their children. You don't have access to that." Amelia nodded to the mirror. "With that, you can contact me and I can help you. The Bones are one of the oldest Pureblood families, so I was taught all the information that will be needed, and I've passed it down to Susan. You've done well so far, as far as I can tell at least, but a little extra help goes a long way.

"Your father and his friend created a set of Enchanted Mirrors at Hogwarts to talk through. Your father gifted a set to me when he was still alive. It took a lot of studying of the spells and runes on it to figure it out fully, but I know how to make them now." Amelia said. "I made it as a means for Susan to contact me in an emergency; I'm offering it to you now so you can contact me to help bring you up to speed on the things you're meant to know. I'll test you before we go over what you're meant to know. I will also be giving you the method of creating them when I think you're ready. I'm sure you can pull the spells necessary off, but can you do so without injuring yourself?"

Harry nodded softly. "Thank you." He said before he glanced back down to the silver pocket watch.

He then saw the time. "Oh, that's not good." He said and snapped the pocket watch shut and tucked it into his pocket. He stood up, gathering the scarf and the two books. "I apologize, but I must be off. I have a meeting with the Goblins in five minutes to continue the tours of my homes." He said before he took off, heading for the Floo grate.

"See you on the Express!" Susan called out as Harry dashed away.

-_Scene Break-_

It had been a hellish day as he finished with the Goblins. But Harry wasn't done. His head pounded, the Portkey had not done him any favors in the slightest. But it needed to be done again. His wand was acting up once more. He could feel it in the Duel with Moody.

His shields were usually strong enough to hold up to more than two _Reducto_ spells. Flitwick chained more than two of them together, and his shields usually took an absolute beating because of it. It meant he had to go back to Olivander.

In all honest, Harry was worried about returning. Why wouldn't he be? He had just visited Olivander not that long ago. But it needed to be done. His magic was in constant flux again. He had even had difficulty focusing on the Conjuration of the hair sticks for Susan.

Harry opened the door, hearing the bell ring. Olivander looked up from the books he was going over. "Mr. Potter, welcome back." Olivander closed the books and tucked them away. "Why are you here once more?"

Harry flicked his wand out and set it on the counter between them silently.

Olivander frowned a moment, looking to the wand, then back up to Harry. "Mr. Potter, you shouldn't need anything done to your wand." He plucked it up anyways and examined it. "And yet here you need a second Tuning. The cores are solid, as is the stone. But the wood is threatening to break apart; a failsafe keeps it from doing so. It would explode quite violently if the wood breaks apart." Olivander said.

The wand maker set the wand down and pinned Harry with a look. "Now, Mr. Potter, I have to ask. What are you doing that requires you to get a second Tuning not even a week after the first?"

Harry wondered how much he could tell Olivander. "I have recently obtained powerful magical artifacts." He said, deciding to be honest on that account. "I originally thought I'd spent most of my life time looking for them, but somehow they keep showing up when, and where, I least expect it. As they accept me, they increase my own magic. I will have to spend some time at Hogwarts fighting to get my magic back under control." His magic had been fluctuating between weak and entirely too strong.

When he summoned his clothes that morning at Potter Manor, he had actually pulled the entire wardrobe to his bed.

Olivander tapped his finger against the wand a moment before he nodded. "So we need to now stabilize the wood." Olivander grabbed a small jar from under his counter with a rag. He then dipped the rag into the liquid in the jar and began to rub it against the wand's shaft carefully. "First we must strip away the polish, and the varnish. I use a relatively basic mix for the varnish that simply water proofs the wand. This would be detrimental to the process."

Olivander then got a clean, empty bowl and placed it on the counter. "Now, Mr. Potter, I will need some of your blood, as well as some blood from your familiar."

Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to give it. "How much?" he asked. Dust was not exactly a large bird after all.

And Blood held even more power than a Name to those with the intelligence to know how to use it.

Olivander set the wand down. "Not much, I assure the both of you. I shall be filling the bowl with another type of blood. This process is quite unsettling, but a necessity." Olivander said.

Harry rolled up his sleeve and offered his arm. Olivander used a needle and a syringe to take some blood and then emptied the syringe into the bowl. He banished the syringe afterward. He did the same to Dust, using a much smaller syringe to get the blood from the bird. He then headed into the back of his store.

Harry watched the crimson fluid swirl together. He briefly wondered what Olivander was going to do. But he returned a moment later with several potion bottles worth of blood. "Once more Mr. Potter, select the one that fits the best with you."

Harry inhaled slowly and began to move his hands over each of the bottles. He could feel his power reacting to them. He stopped on one and tapped it. "This one." He said before moving his hand away.

Olivander pursed his lips. "Yes, I should have thought you would pick this one." Olivander said as he uncorked the bottle and began to pour it into the bowl with the other blood. "Vampire blood Mr. Potter. My grandfather had the luck to be offered the blood of a vampire well over a thousand years of life." Olivander said. "This is a truly powerful reagent to be used in wand making. Blood in and of itself is a rather potent ingredient. Rarely is it even used outside of Tuning."

Harry nodded, still watching the mixture. The vampire blood had made it a great deal thicker. He gently petted Dust when the crow gave a caw.

Olivander then put the bottles back in the back of the shop once more. He came back with a small case. From it, he drew a silvery hair as well as a golden one. He entwined them carefully around his wand so that they didn't touch. Olivander then used a spell to secure them to the wand.

"Thestral and Valkyrie hair Mr. Potter, it should help hold the wood together as well as the blood." Olivander then slowly set the wand into the blood, making sure it was submerged before he covered the top of the glass bowl tightly.

"Come back tomorrow for your wand Mr. Potter." Olivander said as he tucked the bowl under the counter.

That evening, Harry just utterly collapsed onto his bed. Despite keeping up appearances, he had been exhausted since his day at the Bones' home. He shouldn't have even attempted the use of Conjuration.

But Harry didn't care, even as he succumbed to the darkness. It had been worth it for one of his friends. A concept he would do anything for. Just as he had told the Amadeus at the beginning of the school year.

For his friends, Harry would storm the very gates of Hell itself. Putting his body at risk was not outside the realm of a possibility.

But it had drained him something awful.

-End Chapter-

A/N: And there we have it folks, another chapter down. I'm starting to slow on these a little bit, but I'm hoping to pick the pace back up soon enough.

Adios.


	18. Chapter 18

Book 1

Chapter 18

Harry performed his morning rituals with practiced ease. His knife and wand were strapped to his forearms in their appropriate holsters. He dressed nicely and he prepared himself for the cold. Everything had become routine in the time he had spent at the Leaky Cauldron. But it was almost time for him to return to Hogwarts. He had just a few more days.

And they were inspecting the Black Ancestral Home that was available to them. Black Manor had been part of a Dowry to the Malfoy family. Regardless of his personal feelings, Harry would say that the Malfoys, through and through, were businessmen. But for the time, until they could possibly get Black Manor back, they would be inspecting Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry paused to glance at his wand a moment, briefly remembering how it looked when he went to pick it up. Olivander had to braid on more hairs to his wand after it had soaked in the blood mixture. So now he had had two braids of hair going up the shaft of his wand in a neat double spiral.

The wood, Yew being a naturally lighter wood, had been stained to a darker color because of the blood. Olivander then used stain and varnish on the wand, at Harry's request, so that it didn't stick out so much and so the braids of hair would continue to stay intact.

Magic never ceased to amaze him.

Harry headed out of the Leaky Cauldron and made his way to Gringotts. As he walked, he also thought about the Ministry Ball that evening. He was hoping that they would be able to finish up the preview of Number 12 with plenty of time for him to get ready.

He already had the dress robes necessary also. He just needed to finish with the day.

Harry arrived at Gringotts and saw that both Goblins were once more waiting for him. This time, it was Ironskull who presented the box to Harry. "You already know what it is."

Harry opened the box and drew out the simple silver band with an onyx set upon the top with a silver stylized 'B' on the face of the stone. Harry glanced to his fingers. His right index and middle fingers were taken with the Potter heir ring and the Resurrection Stone respectively. He slipped the Black heir ring onto his left index finger.

His 'ring' fingers were kept clear. The left was for his wedding band only in his opinion. And the right would be if his wife died before him. He wanted to uphold those traditions when it came to his rings at the very least.

Harry gently shook his head slightly as he noticed the ring finally sizing down to his finger and accepting him. "Master Ironskull, would it be alright if after our time at Number 12 if I were to remove the ring? I do not want parties that don't need to know knowing that I am Heir Black, as well as Heir Potter." Harry said.

"Past today?" Ironskull asked rhetorically. "No. But you will need the ring today to key you into the Wards of Number 12. As well as commanding the old House Elf. Kreacher is… Well, you'll see." Ironskull took out the silver pocket watch and held it out in one hand. "I believe you know what to do."

Harry and Rotgut touched the pocket watch. They were swept away to a rundown part of London. Harry could feel the powerful wards already as he glanced at Number 12. And the wards were indeed powerful. Wards designed to repel the Mundane people. They were also highly concentrated. If Harry was to guess, no Mundane person could see Number 12. They'd just think it went from Number 11 to Number 13.

"Eight bedrooms, six full bathrooms, a finished attic, a drawing room, a library, and even a Wine cellar, Number 12 was, at one point in time, the grandest of all the Black Properties, excluding of course Black Manor that was given as part of Narcissa Black's dowry to the Malfoy family." Ironskull said as he led the way up the steps. "I'm afraid at this point, with the death of Walburga and Arcturus having moved away decades ago, I do not know the current state of the House. Arcturus, regrettably, passed shortly before your birthday of this year."

Ironskull produced the silver key to the Black home and offered it to Harry. Harry took it with his left hand and quickly unlocked the door. He braced himself and opened the door. He wasn't certain about the state of the house.

Immediately, Harry was assaulted with the smell of dust, mildew, and other foul smells. He brought his hand up to his scarf and brought it up over the lower half of his face. It was a foul smell. He began to step into the entry way, immediately noting that the reputation of the Black Family being a Dark Family was well founded.

Especially if they used a troll foot as an umbrella stand.

"_Filth! Defiler of my home! Creatures and Abominations, Half-blood spawn! How dare you enter into the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?" _Harry's gaze was drawn to a portrait of a snarling woman. He noticed it was faded, likely showing her descent into madness.

"It would seem that Kreacher has died." Ironskull said as he stepped in beside Harry. "A pity, I actually liked the insane little elf."

Harry moved forward, ignoring the screeching of the portrait as he made his way up to it. He reached to the side of it and tried to bring it down, but it refused to budge. "Hmm, it would seem there is a sticking spell of some sort on it." He mused to himself.

"Trespassers! In the Noble House of Black! Be gone! Unhand Kreacher's Mistress!" Harry saw the demented looking elf with narrowed, glaring eyes making his way towards him. "Be Gone from this place dirty Half-blood!" Kreacher snarled. "Kreacher knows not how you got here, but you do not belong!"

Harry turned to face Kreacher fully. He could see the elf charging his magic. While a House Elf was expressly forbidden from attacking a wizard, they could defend themselves or their master from an outside threat. Harry held out his left hand, making sure the stylized silver 'B' was right side up. "I am Heir Black, do you acknowledge Kreacher?" Harry asked. He had a feeling he was going to have to be heavy handed with the House Elf. Not abusive and not even punishing. But he was going to have to keep Kreacher backed into a proverbial corner.

Harry could see Kreacher trying to fight the magic of the bond between Heir and House Elf, his teeth gritting and his eyes narrowed even more. The magic in his hand was threatening to bubble over. "Do. You. Acknowledge. Kreacher?" Harry said firmly.

The magic in Kreacher's hand dissipated. His head bowed, Kreacher's forehead touching Harry's hand on the ring. There was a grip of magic that flowed through Harry. "Kreacher acknowledges the filthy half-blood minor Master." He said scornfully.

Harry nodded and drew his hand away from Kreacher. "You should be ashamed of yourself House Elf. You have allowed your Noble House to fall into disrepair." Harry said, watching Kreacher. "Take the portrait of Walburga Black to be restored using funds from my personal vault, then place her portrait into the Black Vault with the other Portraits. Until I can find a place to put them, I do not want them to be damaged."

Harry fished out his Gringotts key for his personal vault. "Next, I want you to retrieve twenty Galleons. You will go and get yourself a better set of clothes more appropriate for your stations as the Head Elf of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and if you cannot find a set of clothing, you will buy the materials to make your own." Harry said handing the key over to Kreacher. "You will return any left over money to me, with my key, before dusk tonight Kreacher."

"Filthy Half-blood minor Master Commands, so shall Kreacher obey." Kreacher said, shuffling over to Walburga's portrait.

Harry turned to the two Goblins. "Master Rotgut, another of those abominations is here." Harry said his eyes flashing with a bit of annoyance as he walked down the stairs, heading to the drawing room. "You might want to go get a team to transport and destroy it."

Harry heard the Goblin swear in the Goblin tongue before taking a Portkey away. Harry wiped the dust from the glass cabinet and looked inside of it. In moments, he spotted the Horcrux and took out his knife. He opened the cabinet and reached in with the knife, lifting the locket up.

Kreacher squawked and flung himself at Harry, beating at him with surprisingly strong hands. "No! Filthy Half-blood! You mustn't! Know nothing; Filthy Half-Blood Minor Master knows nothing! Oh Kreacher's poor Master Regulus, such a smart Master, unlike the Filthy Half-blood." Dust cawed as he took to the air, moving on top of the cabinet

Harry snarled. "Kreacher back off or I will tie your ears together with a sock and dismiss you!" He bellowed out. Kreacher froze instantly, tennis ball sized eyes wide with his fear, a fear of being dismissed. Harry inhaled slowly and used his knife to pick up the locket once more. "Why is this important to you Kreacher?" Harry asked.

Kreacher shook his head, firmly keeping his mouth shut. "Kreacher won't say. Filthy Half-blood Minor Master can punish Kreacher, but Kreacher won't say."

Harry looked to Kreacher. "I know this is a Horcrux Kreacher. I know of the foul magic behind this and I will see it purged of that foulness. Why is it important to you?" Harry asked.

Kreacher looked up at Harry. "Filthy Half-blood Minor Master knows what it is? Can destroy it? He can finish Master Regulus' work?"

A few puzzle pieces began to click together for Harry. He took a knee in front of Kreacher, putting him on more even of a level with the House Elf. "You've been ordered to destroy this, haven't you Kreacher?" Harry asked.

Kreacher's ears drooped a moment before he nodded. "Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to go, to destroy it."

Harry was thoughtful for a moment. "How long ago?" he asked.

"Kreacher lost track, lost such track of time. All of Kreacher's magic wouldn't destroy it. Kreacher tried to burn it, to smelt it, Kreacher tried many kitchen knives. Nothing worked." Kreacher said, grabbing his ears and bashing his head against the wall.

Harry grabbed him by the back of his uniform and dragged him away from the wall. "Focus Kreacher." Harry barked out. His tone then softened. "Kreacher, I will help finish Regulus' work." Harry said softly. "I have already seen three of these abominations destroyed, including this ring." Harry removed the Peverell ring.

Kreacher looked hopeful. "Minor Master is as noble as Master Regulus." Kreacher said after a moment. "Kreacher hopes to see it done."

Harry glanced to Ironskull who nodded simply. Rotgut came forward, having already gotten a response team. The locket was dropped into a cold iron box.

"Go with the Goblins Kreacher, they will allow you to examine it afterwards." Harry said. He stood up and tucked the knife away. "Master Rotgut, I believe you will need Parseltongue to open that locket. If you do, bring me something to record the words with and I will speak it." He got a confirmation from Rotgut before both Goblins and Elf moved away.

"Four of those filthy abominations…" Ironskull said and spat in a corner. "You Mr. Potter are quite the individual. You've seen to it that four of those abominations are destroyed. I can see why High King Ragnarokk has taken a liking to you."

Harry nodded and watched Ironskull for a moment. "If I may, Master Ironskull, why is it the Goblins have been so forthcoming in the eradication of these abominations? I would figure I could have it done for a cost, yet Gringotts and the Goblin Nation have done it with an almost glee."

"The Goblin Nation has sworn to eradicate that particular piece of magic in its entirety. A loathsome wizard created two for two purposes a long time ago. The first Horcrux fell into a Goblin's hands. It slowly corrupted and possessed him until it was the Wizard's conscious in a Goblin's body. Then the Goblin-wizard went and obtained the second Horcrux.

"High King Ragnarokk and his clan have not always been the rulers of the Goblin Nation. It had at one point been the Scar clan of Goblins. In 1561, a Goblin by the name of Bloodmoor got into a fight with Wizards. He instigated the fight, and was killed. High King Scarmoor was a distant relative. High King Scarmoor should have let the incident go, even if it happened to a relative. Bloodmoor had been the instigator into the situation.

"Unfortunately by the time this had happened, the High King had been possessed by the second Horcrux the Goblin-Wizard had obtained. A wizard with prejudices against the Goblin Nation. High King Scarmoor called for battle and so our troops marched." Ironskull said with obvious distaste. "When the War failed for our side, the entire Scar clan was butchered, as had the Blood clan. It was only through finding journals of High King Scarmoor and later the Goblin-Wizard Scarmoor, that we found out what happened. But the damage had already been done."

Harry nodded softly. That was an understandable reason. The Goblins had lost much to the vile creations. If Harry was honest, he was surprised they even tried to purge the Horcruxes instead of just flat out destroying them.

While Kreacher and Rotgut were out doing their duties, Harry and Ironskull talked about what they planned to do with Number 12. Harry even returned the Goblin made goblets to Ironskull so that he might take them back with him to Gringotts. They may have been the height of status at one point in time, but Harry figured that it would go a long way into helping continued relations with Gringotts.

Eventually, Harry was left alone in Number 12. Perhaps it was not the best place to be alone; it was a good deal darker than Potter Manor had been.

But like Potter Manor, Harry felt a very specific bit of magic inside Number 12. He found himself drawn towards the drawing room once more. A desk rattled, but given it was locked, whatever was inside wouldn't escape any time soon.

There, sitting on a bust of a wizard, was the Shadow Cowl. He removed the object from the bust, feeling the magic radiating from it. He took great care in fitting it on over his head and letting it rest on his shoulders. The hood of the cowl lay back, allowing it to mostly disappear under whatever cloak or robes he wore at the time.

The Shadow Cowl was full of enchantments. A masterpiece of enchanting really. It had dozens of languages built into it, allowing Harry to speak or hear that language. When the hood was drawn up, it would mask his features, and his voice, making Harry take on the appearance of the Pale Rider. A Rider who was faceless and obscured by shadows.

Perhaps the most useful of enchantments would be that it would keep a few magical means of killing him from working so long as he wore it. He could still be killed by most 'mundane' means. If he was burnt to ash, he was killed. If he bled out, he'd be dead. If his organs were turned to liquid, he would be dead.

It was the various potions, spells, and beasts that destroyed the soul that would be rendered ineffectual. The gaze of a basilisk and the Killing Curse to name two such examples that Harry no longer didn't have to worry about. Of course, a basilisk's venom would still kill him in under a minute. And any wizard that could effectively cast the Killing Curse would likely know a worse spell to use that would work just as well against Harry.

Still, the Cowl wouldn't be coming off. Not for extended periods of times. It was too valuable not to leave on.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry checked himself in the mirror a few more times in Regulus' room, staying there at Kreacher's insistence of course. It was the first time that he had dressed up so… expensively. His robes were done in a deep rich green, made from acromantula silk that shimmered. There were slighter shades of green done in stripes, but it was impossible to really tell unless you were staring really closely at them. It caused his eyes to look a different color green based on how he stood in the light. The robes came down to just above his knees, fashionable yet more functional than the robes that came down to the ankles that Hogwarts students were required to wear.

On the left breast of his robes was the Coat of Arms for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, with the family motto directly under it.

Black silk pants were tucked into a pair of dragon hide leather boots. He was told the Hungarian Horntail that went into making them had died of natural causes which increased the natural bronze luster of the hide that went into making his boots. A long sleeved silk button up shirt, done in the mundane style, completed his outfit.

His cowl was underneath his shirt, thankfully the material it being made of was extremely thin so it could settle under his shirt without being noticeable.

Harry used a basic glamor on his hair, turning the tips red once more. He kept his hair as a crow's nest. Anyone that knew the Potter family would know that there was nothing they could do about the messy way the males had their hair lay.

"Minor Master, ten minutes." Kreacher said, popping in. He wore an exquisite suit himself and had been working all day in attempting to clean up Number 12.

"Thank you Kreacher." Harry told the elf and heard him pop back out.

Harry removed the Black Heir ring and the Peverell family ring and set them into a jewelry box. The same box also held the Slytherin Locket, at least until Harry could get it with the other artifacts of the Founders. It made him wonder how the School had known he'd complete the set.

Then again, Divination was a real Magical Art. And Seers had been taught at Hogwarts. Surely the school itself could learn, given how much magic went into its construction.

Harry shifted the Potter Heir ring from his right index finger to his right middle finger. He then headed down towards the sitting room where a fireplace was. Kreacher was waiting with a fresh pot of Floo powder. Magic sparked in his hand for a moment before he cast a simple, and temporary, spell on Harry. It would keep him from getting ashy as he came out of the Floo.

Harry took a pinch of the powder and tossed it into the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic, London!" he said firmly as he stepped through.

He exited through a grate as other witches and wizards exited. Harry steeled himself a bit, taking a deep breath. Dust would not be with him that evening. Harry would be on his own. He locked down his Occlumency shields and began to walk, following the other well-dressed individuals.

He came to an Auror, manning the door and acting as security. Harry handed his invitation to the Auror "Wand please." The Auror said.

Harry allowed it to slide out of his holster and to his hand. "Why?" he asked, tilting his head. "I'm just curious." He hadn't heard about this.

"Security reasons Heir Potter." The Auror said, taking a moment to glance to the Coat of Arms on Harry's breast. "No one past this point, asides from Security, is allowed their wands. It's to keep duels from happening tonight."

Harry nodded and passed the Auror his wand. "Thank you Auror…?"

"Johnson." He said.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor Chaser would you?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly.

The Auror nodded and handed Harry a slip of parchment. "Hold onto that. That will let you claim your wand a lot quicker and easier than having to describe it."

Harry nodded and tucked it into the inner breast pocket of his robes. He'd rather not have some Auror trying to find the right wand, even though Harry was certain his was the only one with a gem at the end of it.

Harry stepped through the door and immediately he felt his senses assaulted. He could hear the beating of war drums, smell smoke and fire, taste blood, and hear the songs of steel ring around him. His eyes glanced around, trying to look for a familiar face from Hogwarts.

War was there. War, his beloved lost sister was there at the Ball.

"Harry!" A jovial tone sounded out, and he was snapped out of the vision he was having. "So glad you could make it my boy." Harry was faced with a man wearing lime green robes and was balding slightly. Harry thought the man was a bit rotund.

"Minister Fudge, I was glad I could accept the invitation." Harry said as he took the Minister's hand and shook it firmly.

"Come along Harry, there are people I want you to meet." Fudge said, leading Harry away from the entrance. He introduced Harry to quite a few different people. Many of them had children at Hogwarts, and some of them had even brought their children there to the ball.

Harry took the time to try and figure if any of them were War. There were even some like Marietta Edgecombe that he took a moment to re-evaluate on his opinion if they were War or not. But the visions would not come back. He knew War was a female, but it was so difficult to pinpoint her down.

He thankfully avoided Pansy Parkinson speaking with Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. Harry had no problem with Daphne; she was generally a quiet girl. But it was Pansy who was as much of a gossip mongrel as Lavender Brown that he had problems with.

"Ah, and here is my very good friend Lucius Malfoy. No doubt you know of his son Draco from school. And the lovely woman on Lucius' arm is his wife Narcissa." Fudge said, drawing Harry's attention back and onto the three Malfoys.

"Mister Malfoy." Harry said inclining his head slightly to the older Malfoy. "Mister Malfoy the younger." Harry inclined his head to Draco. "And Madam Black." Harry inclined his head the most to Narcissa. Not quite a bow, after all Death Bowed to no one.

"My wife is the Lady Malfoy; you will afford her the respect of that title." Lucius said coolly.

Harry covered his mouth slightly as he let a small chuckle out. He could tell the interaction was confusing to Fudge and that Draco was quite upset.

"What is so funny Potter?" Lucius asked, keeping his tone even and cool.

Harry stopped his chuckling. "First, it is Heir Potter, as my station and the formal setting demands. Second, Narcissa Malfoy is a Lady of the Black Family by Blood." Harry saw Lucius starting to speak and held his hand up. "The Malfoy family has been in England for the past eight generations, including the younger Mister Malfoy. Being excellent businessmen have allowed the Malfoy Family to accumulate their wealth in such a short time. Before arriving in England, they had two generations of French nobility before being chased out. We're currently at ten generations of magical blood in their veins. If you go back another ten, you will come across a family of Non-magical sheep farmers.

"The Potter family has had magical blood in their veins for no less than forty generations, being entitled for the past twenty two generations, including myself as Heir to the title of Earl Potter." Harry said sharply. "The Black Family has had magical blood in their veins for the longest of all entitled families in England, coming up at a most impressive fifty two generations of Magical Blood. They have been the Heir to the title of Baron Black of Blackmoor for thirty nine generations. My point, Mister Malfoy, is that by calling your wife anything but Madam Black unless she asks me to call her by Lady Malfoy would be a grave insult to her and to the Black Family." Harry said before he could realize his mistake and the setting.

He had allowed the insults to get to him in a very public setting, a very public and formal setting.

It was surprisingly Narcissa that spoke first. "Madam Black and Lady Malfoy are both acceptable Heir Potter." She said, offering her gloved hand to Harry.

"Madam Black." Harry said snubbing Lucius Malfoy as he took the velvet covered hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. "If you'll excuse me, I think I will go mingle, perhaps enjoy some of the excellent selection of food being offered. I would be delighted if you saved a dance for me Madam Black."

Narcissa's lips curled into a slight smile. "Of course Heir Potter. I would be remiss if I didn't share a dance with my cousin, no matter how distant he was." She said.

Harry inclined his head once more. He turned to the Minister a moment. "I would like to speak with you about a private matter later on this evening Minister, if you can afford the time." He said.

"Of course Harry, or would you rather Heir Potter?" Fudge asked.

Harry decided to cut the Minister a little slack. He looked a tad green around the gills after all. "I am your guest tonight Minister, my invitation was from your desk after all. Harry is fine." He said before turning and walking away, just to get away.

He grabbed a small appetizer from one of the House Elves moving about with the platters of the food. He ate slowly and calmly, just gazing around to room. He had no idea who War might be in the room, but he knew she was there.

Harry desperately hoped it wasn't Pansy; he wasn't sure how she would keep it quiet. He saw Morag McDougal and inclined his head to her slightly. Her family was highly influential so it was no surprise that he saw her there.

An arm slipped around his from behind him. "Hello Heir Potter." A female voice said.

Harry turned his head slightly to look into the sapphire colored eyes of Daphne Greengrass. "Hello Heiress Greengrass." He said. While her family wasn't as old and influential as the Potter family, there was still weight to the Greengrass name, even if they had declined every title ever offered onto them.

"We are dancing." Daphne said firmly, moving him out onto the dance floor. She placed a hand on his shoulder and settled her hand in his own.

Harry place one hand on her hip and lightly cupped her hand. He then began to move to the dance with Daphne. It was a basic waltz, nothing particularly fancy. "So we are." Harry said as he moved with the blonde girl.

"Was there any truth to your words about the Malfoy family origins?" Daphne asked with a light smirk on her lips.

"Of course." Harry said. "I actually quite like history. Those that fail to study history are doomed to repeat it after all. Finding information on various families is not that difficult, if you have the connections and or the gold." Harry said.

"Excellent." Daphne said. "Malfoy has been getting pompous in the Slytherin common rooms because his father is on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. This will hopefully knock him down a notch." She said. "'My father shall hear about this'" she drawled like Malfoy had undoubtedly done. She shook her head. "It is better to take such situations into your own hands, but a true Slytherin does not pass up such potential dirt like this."

"I had actually not wanted to use the information." Harry said honestly. "There are better times, better places after all than at a formal ball."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin." Daphne said. "Why is it the Sorting Hat didn't put you in the House of Salazar?"

Harry smiled a little bit, like he was keeping secrets. He was, of course, but she didn't need to know just how many. "I bow to no one, and someone would have tried to make me bow." As the dance wound to a close, Harry took a step back. He raised Daphne's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Thank you for the dance Heiress Greengrass." He said.

"Of course Heir Potter." Daphne said with a slight curtsey. She then moved away, likely to go speak with someone else.

Harry moved about, mingling a little while with various people. He spoke with Lord Nott who often bought Acromantula silk from one of the Potter businesses. Given Harry had worked the deal to offer Lord Nott a discount so that he bought all of his Acromantula silk from the business, Harry had a vested interest to speak with Lord Nott, regardless of how he was aligned.

"Potter," Lucius suddenly drawled from behind Harry. "My wife wishes to dance with you. Do not sully her with your presence for too long."

Harry stared coolly into Lucius' blue eyes. "Mr. Malfoy, I have told you once already. It is Heir Potter, and I expect you to follow it." He then headed off, moving over to Narcissa who was sitting at one of the tables.

"Madam Black, might I have this dance?" Harry asked as he recognized the opening lines of another waltz. Anything more complicated was a little beyond him at the moment. He even was a good gentleman and held his hand out slightly.

Narcissa stood up. "Of course Heir Potter." She said, taking his hand and following him out onto the dance floor to dance. "It is most impressive that you can dance Heir Potter, given that you were out of the Magical World for quite some years."

"I have learned at least some of the basics." Harry said diplomatically. "Anything beyond a basic waltz at the moment is beyond my capabilities. With school, my family's businesses, and inspecting the state of my various estates with the Goblins, I have been too busy for a proper tutor. However, that should change soon enough."

Narcissa nodded slowly. "If you need a tutor, I could perhaps show you some time. Of course, I will have to come to you given the clear animosity between you and my husband." She offered politely.

"That is a generous offer Madam Black." Harry said. He then glanced to see Lucius out of the corner of his eye.

"I hate to be the bearer of such information, Madam Black," Harry started. "But your husband has magic around his left arm that has marked him for death." He said in a low tone. "It is weak, but still there and whoever cast such magic around his left arm will drag your husband to the grave when they die."

Narcissa managed to not look startled, an impressive feat given she was told her husband would die. "Is there nothing that can be done?" she asked. "While love never fostered between Lucius and I, we have become close friends and partners over the years of our marriage. I would not wish to see him die." She said.

"If the connection could be severed before the person that cast the spell is killed, then your husband will survive." Harry said.

"Are you absolutely certain Heir Potter?" Narcissa asked.

Harry nodded softly. He could even feel it on a few of the older families with darker ties to them. "Amputating the arm might work as well, but I am not entirely certain." He said. He wasn't sure where this new feeling had come from. Perhaps it had come from when he collected most of his artifacts.

The song ended and Harry kissed Narcissa's hand once more. "Thank you for the dance Madam Black." He said.

"I would ask you to step away from my wife now Potter." Lucius said.

Harry quickly understood Lucius' ploy. By continuing to call Harry 'Potter' instead of 'Heir Potter', he was challenging him publically. Harry continued to correct Lucius, but had yet to do anything about Lucius' constant challenging. Harry squared his shoulders as he turned to face Lucius. "If you continue to call me by anything other than my proper title without being given leave to use something other than my proper title, I shall take it as you challenging me to an Honor duel. Given I am still underage and the Heir to an Ancient and Most Noble family, I am entitled to call upon a champion to perform in an Honor Duel for me." Harry said coldly. He knew his aura was flared a little bit, giving him a bit more of a terrifying presence.

"I am certain that Master Auror Alastor Moody or Dueling Champion Fillius Flitwick would be more than happy to be my Champion in such a duel." Harry said, staring into Lucius' eyes. He refused to back down on this matter.

Lucius had a tic work in his jaw. For a moment, Harry thought he might actually consider the Honor Duel. "I wouldn't be so certain, Heir Potter." Lucius grit out.

Harry then turned and walked away, he refused to be bullied by the likes of Lucius Malfoy. Granted, when he turned sixteen he would no longer be allowed to call upon a Champion unless he was physically unable to perform the Duel.

Still, there were a few years before that would happen and Harry was certain that it wouldn't matter.

He felt another female slid their arm around his and lead him away. He glanced over and up slightly to notice the taller Tracy Davis. Her dark brown hair was drawn into an intricate knot and her honey colored eyes looked to him with a small hint of mischief. "So, Heir Potter, you have quite the courage to stand up to Lucius Malfoy like that." She said.

"He was challenging me, and no doubt everyone was noticing. I will fight my own battles, but I am also duty bound to continue the Potter line. I would have called upon a champion if it became necessary." Harry said.

Tracy nodded. "I figured as much. So… how much have you learned under Professor Flitwick?" she asked sounding less like the heiress to a pureblood family and more like a young girl. "I've always found Dueling to be fascinating, and I'm almost certain Flitwick is teaching you how to duel." She said.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Perhaps he is; how can you tell?" he asked.

"It's in the way you walk. You walk with a firm gait, planting your feet. You won't be pushed back by anything." Tracy said. "Your shoulders are squared, and your body is always at the ready, like a tree about to weather a great storm. I'd wager a guess that you're being trained to be a Fortress Duelist."

Harry gave nothing away. "Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not." Harry gave a slight shrug. "Perhaps I'm more of an Assault Duelist."

Tracy smiled more. "Not likely Heir Potter. You're not a Gryffindor." She said.

"I did jump off of Hogwarts." Harry politely reminded.

Tracy paused a moment and inclined her head. "That you did, which might I say was monumentally stupid to do."

Harry nodded. "I am aware now that I have thought more about it. There are plenty of political ramifications to that action as well." Harry glanced around. "Excuse me Miss Davis." He said. Tracy wasn't the Heir to the Davis name so she didn't get the 'Heiress' title.

"Of course Heir Potter." Tracy said before moving away to go talk with Daphne.

Harry made his way over to the Minister. "Minister Fudge, might I have that private talk?" he asked noting that Fudge was alone for the time being.

"Harry my boy, of course." Fudge said cheerfully. He looked less green at having his guest arguing with one of his biggest backers. Fudge place a hand on Harry's shoulder and led him away to a quiet area where they could talk. "What's on your mind?"

Harry turned to face Fudge fully. "Minister, I intend to speak before the Wizengamot during the first meeting of the New Year on the Tenth." Harry said. "I was hoping you would announce me and keep my intentions quiet, just between the two of us." Harry was no fool. He knew that Cornelius Fudge would be better able to get on the docket for the Wizengamot meeting than Harry was.

Fudge nodded slightly. "Of course, of course." He said. "It's a great thing to see you taking an interest in politics at such a young age. Could I ask what this is about however, to give me an idea?"

Harry considered it. It was a serious topic that he would be speaking to the Wizengamot about. "I cannot go into too many details Minister, but it is a serious topic regarding the Goblin Nation." Harry said lowly.

Fudge blinked slightly. "Harry, why would you be bringing such a topic before the Wizengamot?"

"Minister, I just as for your trust in the matter." Harry said softly.

Fudge nodded softly. "Of course. I will get myself penned in onto the docket for the very first thing. Unless an emergency has arisen, we shall attend to your matter right away on the tenth. Will you need transport from Hogwarts?"

Harry took a moment. "A Portkey would be beneficial. I won't have ash and soot from the Floo network." Harry said, trying to end on a lighter note.

Fudge laughed a bit at the image. 'No, it won't do to have you appear before the Wizengamot like that. I'll get one to you Harry."

"Thank you Minister." Harry said and shook the man's hand again.

Harry then headed out. He stopped by Auror Johnson to pick up his wand once more. He had stayed long enough to be polite and sociable, but despite Harry's friendlier attitude by request of Professor Flitwick, Harry was still an anti-social introvert.

Harry took the Floo back to Number 12. He then went to bed in Regulus' old room, falling on it in his robes.

He had recognized most of the faces at the ball. While he would have liked to have found War, finding and convincing a person of their title like that would be incredibly difficult to do in such a public setting. It would be better if he waited.

Sleep came quite quickly for the Pale Rider.

-End Chapter-


	19. Chapter 19

Book 1

Chapter 19

Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express on the Fourth of January. He quickly found a compartment and set about putting everything in order. He got out a bundle of books that he had gotten for Hannah, in return for the book she had gotten him. He also drew out one of the books he got from the Potter Manor on Conjuration. It talked about how to maximize results without using as much power, so he definitely wanted to work with that more.

He also grabbed his gift to Millicent, a copy of one of the Potter Family's tomes on Illusions. He hadn't gotten much time to really study up on Illusion magic, but he was certain that there would be time to do so.

Harry posted his sign on the door and closed and locked it. He then hefted the trunk up into the luggage compartment. Hermione's gift he had to wait until he got to Hogwarts to properly give to her. He had to get it after all since he left it in the Room of Requirements.

He was certain the brainy witch would appreciate a copy of the journal of Rowena Ravenclaw if he could manage it.

Hagrid's gift was locked up in his trunk. He didn't have a chance of seeing the big man on the train after all, so it would be best if Harry left it alone for the time being. He was certain that Hagrid would be most appreciative of the gift. At least, Harry hoped he would. He didn't exactly know what to get Hagrid. He just knew Hagrid liked animals.

Ron's gift had been easy, going into a bookstore in London after the business with the Goblins one day had seen to that. Plus, Harry had a few other plans involved with Ron that he had to wait a bit on. He also managed a gift for the Twins, as well as something for Ron to pass onto his mother.

Flitwick's gift had been a bit difficult to manage. Flitwick seemed to have anything he might have wanted when it came to Dueling or Charms. So, Harry had to think outside of the box and work with a bit of Goblin culture through what Rotgut and Ironskull would answer.

Kingsley's gift had been easy to obtain as well. While he didn't necessarily appreciate the joke gift, he still kept it and even read it. He was always willing to learn, and a book like Quidditch Through the Ages was definitely a book full of information worth learning.

Amelia's gift was going to be just as difficult. In fact, Harry was desperately hoping to speak with Susan so he could have some sort of idea as to what he could get for Amelia. He didn't want the woman to be neglected in his gift giving, especially after giving him such a precious gift that was always at his side now.

Harry had barely settled down in his seat before the door was knocked upon. He opened it to see a brightly smiling Hermione. He motioned her inside and helped her with her luggage, hefting it up into the rack on his own. "Did you have a good Christmas Harry?" Hermione asked

"I did thank you, I spent much of my time touring the various properties in England that belong to the Potter family." Harry said as he sat down. "I had been quite surprised when I received gifts. I admittedly have never received any and did not expect any this year. To receive some and not have something in return was a bit embarrassing. I've spent most of my free time this break attempting to come up with ideas for the various people that did get me something." He said. "How was your own Christmas Hermione?"

"It was good, thanks." Hermione said brightly. "I went skiing with my parents. While I have no talent at it, I enjoy spending time with my mum and dad. I think they might be worried I won't come back one summer and so they're trying to put as much time in as possible." She then glanced to Harry. "So did you manage to get something for everyone?" she asked.

Harry was thoughtful. "Mostly. Yours you will have to wait on." He saw her pout, reminding Harry that while she may be considered bossy, she was still an eleven year old girl. "I should have it to you by tomorrow."

Harry stood up at the next knock and opened the door. He ushered Millicent inside, not at all bothered by the Slytherin girl. She was the only one that he had really spoken with on more than a few occasions. He took her trunk and put it in the luggage area. "Did you get my book?" Millicent asked.

"I did." Harry said and sat down. "And in return," He offered her the book he had copied for her. "I'm certain your family will know most of the techniques in that, but I know the importance of family magic. The fact you offered a book from your family's library means I could do no less."

Millicent looked excited. 'Thank you!" she exclaimed, opening the book almost reverently. "When do I need to get this back to you?" she asked, glancing up.

Harry shook his head. "It's a copy of the actual book. It's your to keep." He said and got a beaming smile from the girl in return. He was certain that she would get a better use out of the book for the time being than he would. From what he had understood, Illusion based magic took a ridiculous amount of control and finesse to pull off.

Control that, at the moment, was out of Harry's grasp due to the influx of power from his Artifacts. He could probably throw out a Blasting Hex with as much power had surged through him, and he had found that sometimes his magic would actually arc along his fingertips, the volatile energy seeking a means of escape.

It hadn't been anything dangerous yet, but Harry knew he had too much magic running through him. His body wasn't used to it just yet, and that was before the random growths during puberty that were going to be coming up. He had forcefully expanded his Core by complete accident.

He was going to have to fight to get control back once more.

Harry picked up on a small, timid knock at the door and he rose up out of his seat. It was so faint, he had almost missed it. Harry opened the door to see a slightly taller boy with a slightly rounded look to him. Like he still had his baby fat, but that was it.

"D-Do you mind?" The obviously shy boy asked softly. A croaking toad was heard from his hand where he kept a box closed tightly.

Harry stepped aside. "Hermione you know from your own House. Millie you might not know too well." Harry said, stepping aside.

Harry helped the boy heft his trunk up into the overhead rack before he grabbed Hannah's presents and set them to the side closer to himself. Harry then took a seat to watch the newcomer for a moment, almost weighing him carefully. If Harry was honest with himself, this was one person that he should have been acquainted with a lot better, but he kept putting it off.

"Thanks Harry." The boy said with obvious relief. "Err – I mean Heir Potter." He said.

Harry waved it off. "Relax; I'm only Heir Potter in a formal setting. I'd rather you call me Harry. Would you mind me calling you Neville?"

The boy in question shook his head, his relief plain. "Thanks Harry, I really mean it." Neville said gratefully.

Harry considered Neville Longbottom for a while. If he was honest, he had purposely been putting the meeting between the two of them off for as long as possible. Harry wasn't sure about how he judged Neville. There were too many factors to take in that made things difficult for Harry to really get close to the boy.

The first was Neville's magic. Neville was, bluntly put, stupidly powerful. Even for as young as he was, the feeling of his magic was almost intimidating by how it utterly dwarfed many others. Even sitting inside the same carriage of the train, Harry could hardly feel both Hermione's magic and Millicent's magic. Neither of them were slouches in their own rights, but Neville's was just massive.

If it hadn't been for the boy's shy nature, Harry might have mistaken him for War before he found out War was a female.

Then there was Neville's control. Having had Charms with Neville for the better part of four months, Harry was well aware that Neville had to fight for every last ounce of control of his magic. His magic was entirely too chaotic and Harry was honestly worried about when it would turn inwards on Neville, refusing to yield to his demands. It was not going to be a pretty thing to witness.

Lastly, and perhaps what bothered Harry the most, was their status. Neville was his God Brother, so to speak, in that Lily Potter was the God Mother to Neville Longbottom and Alice Longbottom was the God Mother to Harry Potter. The paperwork was on file at Gringotts, as were the Wills for his Parents. Harry had already read said wills, but was unable to execute them yet. They required him to be at least fourteen before they could be executed.

How was Harry supposed to react to that? How was he supposed to feel about knowing someone that he was supposed to grow up with? It was difficult for Harry truthfully. He didn't feel the need to bring it up really. Not until it became relevant and it hadn't become relevant just yet.

"Neville, why did you call Harry Heir Potter?" Hermione asked, breaking Harry's train of thought.

"Well, my Gran, the Dowager Longbottom formally, had witnessed Harry essentially destroy much of the Malfoy family's credibility with some of the older pureblood families." Neville said. "And since Harry is Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter,"

"And given the fact my family is holder of the title of Earl," Harry supplied for Neville.

"In a formal situation it would be Heir Potter." Neville finished up.

Hermione looked surprised at that. "You're an Earl?" she asked, looking directly to Harry.

It was not something he generally cared about, so Harry shrugged slightly. "Not yet, but I will be when I reach my majority. I can even sit in among the House of Lords in Parliament; in truth, the Potter Earldom is minor compared to some of the other Earls. Traditionally my family has always focused more on the Wizarding World rather than the Mundane one. I'm hoping to do a bit of both, straddle the fence so to speak.

"At this time however, I'm not too worried about it. I've got too many projects going on as it is to worry about it. I plan to go to a Mundane University as well for Business and Politics. I'll start to worry about it when it becomes more pressing." Harry shrugged softly.

That and his first taste of Politics was in less than a week. He intended to go for the Shock and Awe approach and hoped it would pay off. It was a gamble, admittedly, but it was one he was going to take. The Wizarding World was long overdue for a wakeup call.

"I can't believe you're entitled." Hermione said a bit breathlessly, pressing her hand to her forehead.

Harry shrugged. "A fair few students can be considered the upper echelons of society in the Wizarding Society. You're sitting with three. Padme and Pavarti are two more; Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot of Hufflepuff are up there as well." Harry shrugged once more. "Don't treat us any differently Hermione, we're still people, we're still going to school."

It was Millicent who looked surprised this time. "You consider the Bullstrode family to be part of the upper echelon?" she asked.

Harry nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Not as high as say the Longbottom family or the Potter family, but the Bullstrode family is known to have their wealth and they have deep seated roots in English soil."

"Unlike the Malfoy family?" Millicent asked with a slight smirk.

Harry inclined his head. "Unlike the Malfoy family." Seeing Hermione's confused look, he turned to her. "The Malfoy family is generally considered an upstart family, go back what can be considered a handful of generations and you have a French immigrant family. While some of them, such as Abraxas Malfoy have been cunning enough to work side by side with some of the more prominent families, including the Potter family, I still fail to see how Lucius Malfoy had gotten such prominence. He practically Lords over the others of his bloc, and yet he is of only about middle station."

Harry shrugged a moment and decided to start on his book, opening it up and reading it slowly. After some time, he noticed Neville stand up and grab a book out of a side compartment of his trunk. Harry noted that the title was based on something of Herbology, and some advanced work as well.

More advanced than what Harry was capable of doing at the very least. He was good at gardening, but what that book looked like was clearly above and beyond his own skill set.

Because Harry had never really interacted with Neville, Harry did not know he had quite the green thumb. He'd have to watch him, a possible candidate for Famine.

-_Scene Break-_

The excitement was palpable in the air of the Great Hall. Despite it being a school, the students generally were thankful to be back after a break. They were back with their friends, or their friends had returned, and they would soon begin to work in the wonders of Magic once more.

Harry sat with his bag beside him. Of course, he got a few glances from everyone for having his bag with him, but they didn't know about the secondary bag inside, sewn in like a second compartment that was massively expanded.

He had removed the Resurrection Stone and wore it instead around his neck on a simple chain. He didn't want it to be identified by anyone that might know what it was. So on his right hand, middle finger, all that sat was the Potter Heir Ring. He had gotten quite a few looks about that as well, but he was proud to wear it.

He listened as Dumbledore gave his speech for the feast, but it wasn't very long. Just a few words of welcoming back really. But as he finished and sat down, the feast appearing before their eyes, Harry slowly rose to his feet.

He could feel more than a few gazes on him as he made his way towards the Staff Table. Even Dumbledore's eyes had stopped their twinkling, his gaze curious as his gaze followed Harry. Harry walked with his back straight and his head high as he strode to stand in front of Slughorn.

"Professor Horace Slughorn," Harry said loudly and clearly for everyone to hear. He reached into his bag for the intricate wooded box. He placed it upon the Staff Table and removed the lid, revealing a highly polished Golden Locket with a stylized letter 'S' upon it. "Head of House Slytherin, may I present to you the Locket of Salazar Slytherin. May it find a good home, somewhere that will bring pride to the House of the Ambitious and Cunning."

Harry watched as Slughorn raised the locket slowly, fingers fumbling with the chain a moment. "Th-This is..."

-_Open-_ Harry hissed out, gasps and a few shrieks being heard as he did so, but the locket clicked open anyways. Inside was a portrait of Slytherin's two children, a black haired boy and a girl with vibrant red hair.

Harry then stepped past Slughorn, moving to stand before Professor McGonagall. Harry reached into his bag and removed the large box inside. It was the largest of the bunch. Harry placed the long and thin box on the Staff table. "Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of House Gryffindor," Harry removed the lid carefully. "May I present you with the Blade of Godric Gryffindor. May it find a good home, somewhere that it will bring pride to the House of the Brave and Courageous." Harry said, removing the blade and presenting it to the transfiguration professor, the blade balancing on both hands.

McGonagall, understandably, took the blade by the hilt with shaky hands. She inhaled a bit as she looked to the name etched upon the blade.

If Harry was honest, that blade had been the hardest to get the Goblins to let him keep. It was only by returning any Goblin made object in the Black properties, as well as the Potter properties, as well as returning anything Goblin made from the former Lestrange Vault, coupled with paying a very steep price for the blade, did Harry get to be allowed to keep the thing.

The purchase had pretty much wiped out all the Galleons in the Lestrange Vault.

Though Flitwick was technically next, Harry stepped past the diminutive Professor, turning to stand in front of Professor Sprout. "Professor Pomona Sprout, Head of House Hufflepuff," Harry removed the thickest box from his expanded bag and set it down upon the table. He lifted the lid carefully. "May I present to you the Chalice of Helga Hufflepuff." He removed the cup and held it in his hands carefully so that Spout could grab from the sides. "May it find a good home, somewhere that will bring pride to the House of the Loyal and Hard-working."

Sprout nodded with tears of joy clearly in her eyes as she took the object from his hands. She set it down slowly on the table, tracing the stylized letter 'H' with her finger.

Harry spun on his heel and moved to stand in front of Flitwick. "Professor." Harry said, dipping his head in greeting.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the final box, setting it on the table. "Professor Fillius Flitwick, Head of House Ravenclaw." Harry lifted the lid slowly. "May I proudly present the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw." Harry lifted the diadem from the box slowly and carefully, offering it to his Professor. "May it find a good home, somewhere that will bring pride to the House of the Clever and Intelligent."

Flitwick took the Diadem carefully and bowed his head slightly to Harry. "It will Mr. Potter." He said softly.

Harry spun on his heel and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath and let it out carefully. He began to return to his seat.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, speaking up. "I would like to see you in my office after the feast."

Harry glanced over his shoulder, his green eyes suddenly opened at that admission from the Headmaster. Harry gave a slow nod though. He then turned back towards his table and sat back down. Despite the leaps and bounds he had made in socializing, Harry stayed quiet and distant the entire meal.

When it was over, he stood up and headed for the Third Floor where the Headmaster's office was located. Harry was unsurprised to see Flitwick already there.

Harry smiled a bit to the diminutive Charms Professor. "Professor, I do not think the Headmaster will talk about what he really wants to talk about with you there." Harry said, stepping beside him. "He was publically seen and heard asking for me to meet him in his office, so I do not think he will try anything when it can come back on him so viciously. Besides, I'm certain you need to do a roll call on the 'Claws." He said.

Flitwick looked at Harry firmly. "And I am supposed to be in that meeting with you Mr. Potter." He said in a no nonsense tone.

Harry nodded softly. "I know, and I understand Professor." He said quietly. "But I feel I need to do this alone." Harry said, clenching his hands slightly, digging his fingers into his palms. "I need to know if Dumbledore is a man purposely trying to be manipulative and setting up some sort of Chess board, or if he's just an old man with good intentions that are going to Hell." Harry ran his hands through his hair.

Flitwick watched Harry a while longer. "I will remain here then." He said softly. "You have five minutes, no more, before I enter."

Harry nodded and stepped up to the Gargoyle that quickly sprang to the side. Harry made his way up the stairs slowly. He double checked his cowl under his clothes. If he was honest, he was terrified of being in the room with Albus Dumbledore, terrified of being alone with the man. He had no way of stopping him from casting _Obliviate_ on him, the cowl would stop it, but the fact remained. It would not be hard for Dumbledore to cast a Stunner or slip him a potion instead.

Those the cowl wouldn't offer much protection against. Some, but not much.

Still, Harry knocked on the door and it swung open to admit him, with Dumbledore sitting at his desk. "Ah, Mr. Potter, come in." he said, motioning to the chair in front of the desk.

Harry made his way inside and sat down. Dust gave a slight caw before he stared at Dumbledore, as though already judging the Headmaster.

Dumbledore interlaced his fingers carefully, watching Harry closely. "First, I would like to congratulate and thank you for uniting the Founders' Objects here in Hogwarts. Many of those, like the Diadem, had been thought to be lost forever."

Harry nodded his head. "Thank you Professor and you're welcome. It will be up to the Heads of Houses to decide what to do with them now."

Dumbledore frowned a moment but nodded his head carefully. "I must confess to be… concerned about three of them. A former student had expressed an interest in them when he was here at Hogwarts. Sadly, this student had fallen off the path of good."

Harry watched his Headmaster for a while. There had been no question in that statement. And Harry wasn't going to just start spilling out information to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore licked his lips slightly, clearly having expected Harry to start speaking about where he had found them. He seemed hesitant to speak up regarding the topic. "It has… recently come to my attention, that Voldemort had committed great evils in his path for immortality. I am worried that he had found the objects of the Founders and perverted them in his quest."

Harry still didn't hear the question, but he decided to finally give a bit of input. "Horcruxes." Harry said, biting the word off his tongue, his tone full of rancor and venom. "Vile things, crafted from murdering an innocent without repentance. Tom Marvolo Riddle created such monstrosities. One hidden here at Hogwarts, another in Gringotts, two more in and on my property." Harry said. "The Goblins have been most efficient at destroying the Horcruxes, disenchanting the darkness from the objects. I have gladly witnessed _four_ of the vile things purged from his soul. And yet, inside my heart, I still feel he lives."

Dumbledore leaned back, sitting in his chair. His blue eyes were wide with shock at what he heard.

Harry stood up calmly. Before Dumbledore could regain his thoughts, he turned on his heel carefully. "Take some time Professor to think on what you have heard." He said calmly. "Instead of playing things so close to chest, learn to trust someone else." The Hypocrisy of that statement was not lost on Harry, but he couldn't just delegate to someone else the duties of finding the other Riders.

Dust was the only familiar that bonded to the title of one of the Horsemen. Any other familiars were personal familiars instead, so there would be no help on that end. Harry couldn't ask another witch or wizard to find the Riders, the Four Horsemen, while being heralds of the coming Apocalypse, were also capable of keeping it at bay.

Imagining the likes of Voldemort, breaking his mind and his will until he served the self-styled Lord, keeping Voldemort alive for the rest of eternity caused a shudder to run down Harry's spine. Death had to happen. But he could also stave it off.

He had not sworn a magical oath on it, but he made a promise to himself that he would never keep someone alive when it was their time to die. Even if it meant having a piece of him die when they did, he could not do so.

Harry left Dumbledore's office quietly, stepping down to walk with Flitwick towards the Ravenclaw dorms.

-_Scene Break-_

It was after hours when Harry arrived to the Come and Go room. He pulsed his magic to make himself visible, his Invisibility cloak turning black at his command. Harry inhaled softly as he glanced around the corridor before he removed the knife from the sheath on his left arm.

His Deathly Aura was quite high as well, making sure that no one would be there for what he was about to do.

Mentally, he begged for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

He sliced open his own palm, wincing slightly as the blade dug into his palm. "Helena Ravenclaw, I summon you. Helena Ravenclaw, I call upon you. Helena Ravenclaw, thrice named and thrice called, as the Rider of Death, I call you forth, heed my cry and come to me as Blood and Steel demand!"

The magic was strong in the air, the scent of blood thick and hanging. For a moment, Harry was worried that it would not work. Then from the floor, ten feet away from him, the ghostly visage of the Grey Lady began to rise.

Harry tucked the knife away into its sheath. "Lady Ravenclaw, a pleasure." Harry said as he made his way towards her.

"Skip the pleasantries Pale one." She said sharply, even though her voice was shaky. "Why have you summoned me?" she asked. "Was Cuthbert Binns not enough? Are you such a tyrant that you would have the Ghosts do your bidding?"

"Never!" Harry said passionately. "But I had to ask you something, as the only known descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw. You are the Ghost of my House, Lady Ravenclaw, yet I have never seen you, I have never spoken to you. I have never heard your words of wisdom." Harry looked to her angry eyes.

"There is another student, a Gryffindor student, who would have done well in House Ravenclaw. She is intelligent, if a little overbearing. I would like to give her a copy of one of your mother's journals my Lady." Harry pressed forward, stepping a little closer to Helena. "Just a copy of the Journal my lady, and I would be remiss to just give such a thing out, to even use it without asking your permission first. I would like to be able to use some of the warding schemes in the Journals to better protect my home as well, but if you say no, then I shall drop the matter and allow the knowledge to remain where it is." Harry said.

By the look on her face, Harry thought that the Grey Lady would say no just on pure principle alone. He had used an old ritual to summon her. Technically it was a necromantic ritual meant to summon the dead, especially zombies, but it worked just as well on Ghosts. It was why a name was such a powerful thing to know.

"Just a copy?" Helena asked after a moment. "Not the actual Journal, but a copy of it?" she asked for clarification.

"Just a copy, something simple and she would appreciate." Harry said.

Helena was quiet for a while longer. But eventually she nodded. "Very well, Mr. Potter, you may use my mother's journals. Leave the originals within the Room, but if you can make a copy and translate them, you are welcome to the knowledge within." She offered her hand slowly to Harry, generally a futile gesture really, but a gesture of habit.

Harry however, knew his Deathly Aura was magnificently high at the moment. He took the hand, hearing the gasp from Helena as she felt the seeping cold moving through her skin. Harry dipped his head down and kissed the back of her knuckles. "Thank you my Lady." He said, bowing his head a bit.

Death bowed to no one, not really. But the Dead deserved the utmost respect, even from Death. They would always be bowed to if they were deserving of it.

Harry drew his hood up over his head and quickly disappeared before walking off. He didn't go ten steps before he paused. "My Lady Ravenclaw, tell Sir Nicolas to come find me when I am alone, and I shall see about fully severing his head."

Helena nodded before she began to fully disappear, moving off to wherever it was that the Ghosts went.

Harry quickly headed for his bed so he could get to sleep. It wouldn't do to be late for his first class back.

-_Scene Break-_

Within the castle of Hogwarts, in the Scottish highlands, deep inside the twisting corridors, the stone was damp and wet with frost from the lack of heat to that part of the castle. Past a three headed dog, kept warm by the charms placed upon its collar, past a twisting and winding plant that moved much slower in the winter.

Past a room full of flying keys, with a door sliced open, past a giant stone chess set, prepped and ready for battle, past a massive troll slumbering the night away, having been left there and forgotten for the time being, through two ways consumed with magical fire and into a vast room with a mirror that sat in the center of it.

Events were occurring in that vast room, events that would shape and change the fate of the Wizarding World for centuries to come.

Deep inside the mirror, forged by a Seer and a Genius, things began to stir. Had the genius known what was to become of the mirror, perhaps it would have never been made. If the Seer had been stronger, perhaps they would have been able to fight the compulsion to make it.

The mirror that showed only the deepest desire of those that looked into it, the mirror that perverted the present with images of the past and possible futures, the mirror that was in truth, much more… cracked.

Like a great Dwarven battle hammer being smashed against it, the mirror cracked into a myriad of spider web like designs. And from those cracks, a black, tar-thick substance bubbled out, splatting against the floor with thick plops.

Slowly the ooze began to climb forward, surging towards the magical fire. It paused upon itself, apprehension perhaps going through what little sentience it might have had. Then it surged forward, the fire going out as it was consumed.

Something hungry was loose in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

-End Chapter-

A/N: So… yeah… I've been wanting to write this since last chapter, but the beginning of this chapter had been an absolute bitch. Next chapter will be out as soon as possible, I promise. Much sooner than this one.

Next chapter we have Harry before the Wizengamot, and let me tell you that next chapter I've had planned since Harry's meeting with Ironskull.

Adieu!


	20. Chapter 20

Book 1

Chapter 20

It was time. It was time to go before the Wizengamot, something Harry was nervous about. Politics, both Wizarding and Mundane, were a pit of vipers ready to strike. Most Nobles going into Politics had allies going in, older family members that knew the ins and outs of people in the Political ring that could teach them, and they also tended to have tutors in politics and law.

Harry had none of that. Between his physical training which was a must, his studies of magic all but forgotten at Hogwarts, his various businesses, he had very little free time. Worse yet, it was looking to be much like that for some time yet.

It made the Wizengamot Session today all the more important.

He was hoping to hit two or three birds with one stone so to speak.

As he went about his morning rituals, Harry's mind drifted back to his gifting of the presents that he had gotten for various people.

Hagrid had practically broken down and cried when Harry presented his gift to the large man. Despite the decline in political power of the Potter family, they still held sway. A discreet investigation into Hagrid's background, and of course his expulsion, had led Harry to believe the man was innocent. An acromantula would have dragged the girl's body off to be devoured. The fact not a mark was on her told Harry that Hagrid had been framed, and had a dangerous creature in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Finding that out, Harry offered sponsorship to Hagrid, for the big man to get his Mastery in Care of Magical Creatures. Not just Mastery in Britain either, but Mastery on the International Level. A few letters to a few of the members of the Board of Masters and they were willing to at least allow Hagrid an attempt during the summer.

His forty some odd years at Hogwarts, tending to the various animals had given Hagrid the practical experience. The Board of Masters would test his theory and a bit more of the practical, so he had a few months to study up.

Ron had been confused at his present at first. Books, Mundane books at that, had not been his idea of a gift. He had expected something likely more expensive or something that wouldn't require him to read. But then Harry explained the two parts of his gift.

The books were on Bobby Fischer. More specifically, they were on his games and the way he played. Harry explained to Ron, once more, that Bobby Fischer had been a genius at Chess. Harry wanted Ron to read the books, to study them.

The reason came from the second part.

Harry saw something in Ron's chess abilities. Something to be cultivated, to allow to grow and flourish into something spectacular. By allowing that something to atrophy, to wilt and die was unacceptable to Harry. So Harry was going to see it grow and flourish into something that Ron, who felt overshadowed by the achievements of his older brothers, could be proud of.

Harry would sponsor him to enter an International Wizarding Chess Tournament that summer. It was a late summer event also, so they would know Ron's grades before he went off to the Tournament. The grades were important because Ron said he had doubts his mother would let him go, Harry said he would get her to let him go under the stipulation that Ron got at least an Acceptable in everything.

Did either of them expect Ron to win the tournament? Not particularly. But if Ron did well enough, other people would take notice and he would be invited to more tournaments.

Perhaps he was a bad person. He knew that doing both of these, if both Hagrid and Ron did very well, would benefit him and the Potter name quite a bit. But that wasn't the reason he had gotten both of them those things. He essentially got them both something they could want.

Hagrid loved working with animals. If he got a Mastery in Care of Magical Creatures, then he could, legally, set up a small dragon preserve near the borders of Hogwarts. No one was likely to sign off on the permit for the reserve, but Hagrid still could legally do it. He could also apply to be the teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures class.

Ron loved Chess. He of course also loved Quidditch, but Chess was something that he was genuinely good at without a shadow of a doubt. By letting him try for the Chess tournament, he could have something he could be proud of. There were no previous immediate members of his family that had gone on to become a renowned chess player.

Hermione's gift he had stressed the importance of not speaking out about it. He also politely reminded her that it was from a different era, and that the Journal of Rowena Ravenclaw was not something to be squandered. It had the tamest of her magic in its pages, but even still, it had things that could be borderline dark.

Hermione promised that she'd keep an open mind while she read it. Harry also had her promise that she wouldn't try any of the spells inside of it without being in a secure location first. It wouldn't do to hurt someone due to carelessness.

For Kingsley, Harry went ahead and went with the man's obsession with Quidditch. He was quite surprised to find himself in the possession of season tickets to his favorite team. Harry didn't divulge where he got the information from, just that he knew.

Hannah he had gotten a few Mundane medical journals as well as a few books on anatomy. He figured if anyone could make sense of them, it would be Hannah. She would also be able to determine the differences in the Magical Method and the Mundane one, besides the time involved.

Amelia and Flitwick, Harry was still trying to figure out what to get them. Amelia was still a relatively unknown, and Flitwick didn't strike Harry as the type to really need any material object.

Harry glanced over to a windowsill. "Come on." He said, holding his arm out to Dust.

In return, Dust gave a very loud, very sharp caw, fluttering his wings.

"Come on Dust, enough of that. We've been over this." Harry said.

Still the crow gave another loud caw, refusing to move from its perch on the windowsill.

"I will come over there and get you." Harry said. "We both don't want that."

Dust cawed angrily before fluttering over to Harry's outstretched arm. The Potter heir then very carefully moved Dust under a stray stream of the warm water from the showerhead. He began to pet the crow. "We have to make sure you look sharp today. Don't want to give a bad impression." Harry said.

Finally, he set Dust on the frame of the shower stall and cut the water off.

Harry dried himself off and quickly grabbed his clothes from the dormitory. He sighed a moment before he began to pull them on. He couldn't afford a single misstep today. He had to go into the Wizengamot at his absolute best, he had to throw the politicians off.

Harry started with a pair of charcoal slacks. They were Mundane made, tailored to his size. He and the Goblins had gone into Mundane London early on in the break to have them made. They were silk, though not Acromantula silk. The Goblins had decided that, since this meeting would benefit them, that they would make some time to help Harry. He had the rest of the suit that went with the slacks tucked away at Potter Manor. It was not be wise to enter the room of the biggest traditionalists in Britain in a completely Mundane Suit, no matter how expensive or finely made it was.

Next was a dress shirt, this one made of pure unicorn hair. It had been expensive to make, given that weaving Unicorn hair was a very difficult art to master, but it offset the grey of the slacks well. The fact it was also a color and cut that allowed it to go with just about anything was a nice bonus. It would also add a bit of added protection to him from any spells that could be cast at him. The reason why most people didn't wear such a thing was that it was difficult to find anyone to actually make it, but Kreacher had known of a woman that did make them.

Over the white dress shirt, he slipped on a vest made from the hide of a Nordic White. More specifically, he had the vest made from the first shedding of a newborn Nordic White, so the leather actually looked more translucent than white. It had come from the Potter Dragon Reserve in Greenland where they bred and raised the dragons. When they had to do population control on the dragons because they bred too wide spread, they harvested the valuable parts.

His Hungarian Horntail boots from the Ministry Ball were pulled on, the slacks tucked into the boots in a traditional manner. He had quite enjoyed the boots, they were comfortable and very warm. And this meeting, he had a feeling he would be standing for a time.

Lastly was a set of charcoal half length robes that came down to his knees. In truth, it looked more like a duster than a set of robes, but it didn't quite have the cut or bulk. It was made to allow him to maneuver really. The Potter Coat of Arms was on the left breast of the robes. The silk was from an Acromantula colony that the Potter family owned.

The Potters had made most of their wealth from being merchants. But they were also warriors to the core if necessary or called upon.

Harry removed the glamor that gave his hair red tips and slicked it back away from his face.

Dust settled onto Harry's shoulders, and the duo began to move away. Harry paused at his trunk for the summons from the desk of Cornelius Fudge. The Minister had come through for him in the end, managing to get the summons to Harry before Hogwarts had even started back up.

After a moment's of thought, he also pulled on the Dueling gloves that Flitwick got him for Christmas, making sure the gloves were tucked under his robes instead of over. It was generally more polite to have them under. It made it so the person didn't look like they were about to do something… messy.

Harry held his head up high as he headed for Flitwick's office to use his Floo.

-_Scene Break-_

Dumbledore entered into the Wizengamot chamber last. As Chief Warlock, he wanted to give all the Lords and Ladies plenty of time before the session was called to order. He wore a sedate set of crimson flowing robes, keeping them plain of any emblems except for the symbol for his station as Chief Warlock.

He raised the Elder Wand up, feeling the magic swirling through him and the wand before he made a simple blast of sound come out of his wand, drawing attention to him. "I hereby bring this Wizengamot meeting to Order on the tenth of January, year One Nine Ninety Two." Dumbledore said for the Scribe. He then began to go through the roster of the entitled Lords, Ladies, and those who held a seat. It always pained him to hear the deafening silence when he went to those families that were lost for all time.

There was always a slim chance that they could be revitalized by some of the Muggleborn witches and wizards, but due to rulings by the Board of Governors, Hogwarts wasn't able to explain to the Muggleborns many things, including that Gringotts could do a Heritage test.

The Goblin run bank was not exactly pleased about that either. It meant they had stilled gold. And stilled gold did not make a profit.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and his mind a moment. "Does anyone have any emergency business to bring before the Wizengamot?" he asked. During war time, when the Wizengamot actually declared war, that question would be asked before roll was taken. Not a single person spoke up.

Dumbledore nodded, more to himself than anything. "Very well then." He said. "Our first order of business," he glanced to the docket. "Comes from Cornelius Fudge, our esteemed Minister of Magic." He said. He glanced over to Fudge. "Minister, the floor is yours."

Interestingly enough, Fudge was not in a lime green set of robes with a matching bowler hat. Instead, he was dressed impeccably in black. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot." Fudge started off, greeting them. "A matter was brought to my attention that intrigued me, and was to be brought before the Wizengamot. It was felt that I was the best person to get penned into the docket, while another person would present the matter fully. I cede the floor to Harry James Potter, Scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter." Fudge said.

Dumbledore looked up, surprised as the doors swung open. The young heir in question strode in powerfully, his steps measured. Harry's shoulders were squared, and his head held high. Dumbledore could not detect a trace of anxiety coming from the young man. The way he dressed was expensive but tasteful. It was to remind everyone, subtly, that this was the Heir of an Ancient and Noble House.

Harry paused at Fudge. "Minister." He said, greeting the man briefly with a firm handshake.

Dumbledore then watched as Harry stepped towards the center of the floor, looking over the collected Wizengamot slowly, making sure to take in each and every one of them. Dumbledore wasn't sure what his young student was there for, but he had a feeling that Harry was likely to rock the boat some more.

"Members of the Wizengamot," Harry greeted them all. Dumbledore bit the tip of his tongue slightly. That likely wouldn't win over any of the Wizengamot. The Lords and Ladies generally liked having their power and station higher than the other members, meaning they should have been greeted first and separately.

"I come before the Wizengamot with a grim set of news." Harry said, beginning to walk slowly, watching them all. "There have been whispers of War." Blunt and straightforward on the topic at hand, Harry was showing his lack of learning in the realm of politics. "A war that we are ill prepared for." Harry said, speaking up over the whispers happening between the Lords and Ladies.

"The people that would bring us War?" Harry asked rhetorically. "The Goblins." He said.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and bowed his head a bit. That wasn't going to go over well. Sure enough, an eruption of noise began to fill the Wizengamot chambers. Cries about the Goblins, many people calling them 'filthy beasts' began to fill the room. Dumbledore wished that Harry had spoken to him about this, he could have helped Harry more. It would have been easier.

"ENOUGH!" Harry roared out, his aura flaring up and washing over the entire Wizengamot chambers. Dumbledore jerked back in shock and surprise. Ice was coated along the marble floor creeping away from Harry. The entire Wizengamot was chilled and silent.

The oppressive feeling of Harry's aura dipped and the young Heir was now glaring at the Wizengamot. "Your Prejudices are what have brought this upon us all! Many of you believe that because you have a wand you are innately better than those that do not! Some of you believe that because of your family's deeds and titles that you are better than those that do not have such deeds and titles attached to your name!

"We must think on this logically! We are poorly equipped to fight the Goblins. One, they have the majority of our gold beneath their bank. Without that gold, our businesses cannot run, our employees will not work, our people cannot eat!" Harry breathed a bit heavily for a moment from having to shout before he composed himself, evening out his breathing.

"Madam Bones, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you would know how many Aurors and Hit-Wizards are available." Harry said, glancing up to the woman. "You would also know how many of them are combat trained and ready. Would you mind saying those two numbers?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore turned slightly to look at Amelia as she rose from her seat as Regent Bones. "We have Ninety-two Aurors available, and one hundred and five Hit-Wizards, this includes those that are retired but can be reinstated.." She said. Dumbledore then noticed her lick her lips. One hundred and ninety seven wizards was not a good number, not for law enforcement. "Of those, sixty-one, including myself, are combat trained and ready." Amelia said before sitting down slowly.

Harry inclined his head in her direction. "Less than two hundred Law Enforcement Wizards available. Less than a third of that is trained for pitched combat." Harry said.

"The Goblins have miles and miles of tunnels underneath London. Warriors stand at the ready, trained from a young age to do nothing but fight and be ready for War. We have, to use a Mundane term, a police force. The Goblins have an army." Harry said. "And even if they do nothing but hole up inside of Gringotts, slowly force ourselves to starve and die until we are ready to make peace on their terms, they will still beat us in the long run." Dumbledore watched as Harry's points were slowly sinking in, even in the prejudiced and traditional minds of the oldest of all the Wizengamot members. "Even if we were to storm Gringotts, the enchantments on many of the vaults, the miles and miles of tunnels they could use to flank our people would ensure their victory there.

"But our disadvantages does not end there either, many of our homes are warded with Goblin wards. Some of the older homes have defenses that are wizard made, but the majority of our wards are Goblin made." Dumbledore could see some of the members faces turn paler. Warding magic was indeed difficult magic to perform, and the Goblins were the best to go to for it. Even Dumbledore's home in Godric's Hallow had a few Goblin Wards on it.

Unfortunately, it seemed Harry was unwilling to let his point go until he had driven it home to everyone in attendance. "And let us not forget that Hogwarts, long before it came into the hands of the Founders to turn into a school, was a Goblin Military installation. How do you people feel about the future generation, First years barely learning how to do more than cast sparks, being forced into _your_ war?"

Dumbledore had to give Harry credit. He had a razor sharp tongue and knew exactly where to point it to inflict the most damage. The fact that he had yet to let up on his assault had not given the members of the Wizengamot time to converse amongst themselves.

"What about the treaties? The Goblins wouldn't dare break the treaties." There was some general agreements going about the room. Goblins were known to be honorable, and such a pact as a treaty they would not break.

"Fool!" Harry barked out at the Lord. "We've already broken it a dozen times over. Every single treaty after each of the Goblin Wars, we have sworn to treat them like a Sovereign Nation unto themselves with a direct line, an Ambassador, through the Goblin Liason office once the Ministry of Magic had been formed. We've done the first, barely, but the second we've failed to uphold."

Harry paused at this moment and Dumbledore noticed that the Wizengamot was finally conversing with themselves. While generally he was not to ask questions, he felt that in this case, it would be best. "Heir Potter," Dumbledore carefully started, noticing those sharp green eyes flick over to him. "Why did the Goblins bring this to _your_ attention?" Dumbledore was not trying to undermine the boy or anything. But he wanted to know why Harry, why burden a boy with such grim tidings?

Harry bowed his head a moment, clearly thinking. When he looked up, Dumbledore noticed his resolve harden. "I have met with the High King of the Goblin Nation." There were a few gasps, even a few cries of lies. "I have dined with the High King of the Goblin Nation. My Account Manager Rotgut would be more than happy to confirm that.

"The Goblins are more than willing to go to war, and while the whispers have reached the High King's ears, the truth has yet to. My Account Manager asked me to try and nip the problem at the bud, before it opens fully. So here I stand before you, trying to nip the problem at the bud. The only reason I know of this mockery of our treaties, denying Gringotts their investigation, is because the result of the investigation regards me.

"Make no mistake, I will not be angry if what is perceived as truth is truth. I am not trying, in the slightest, to do this for myself outside of keeping myself out of war. A war that I cannot see Wizards winning. My opinions on the Goblins, and on the matter they are investigating do not equal into this in the slightest." Harry said all of this carefully and calmly, watching the Wizengamot.

Then, from inside his shirt, he slowly withdrew an ornate ring. "I am the Heir to the title of Baron Black of Blackmoor." Harry said as he slid the Heir Black ring on his left middle finger. There were a few mutterings going through the chamber of the Wizengamot. "The Goblins of Gringotts, my Account Manager Ironskull especially, have been in the middle of investigating how this came to be, and have been blocked by the Ministry. Sirius Black, my Godfather, is still the Lord Black despite his incarceration."

There were a few low mutters. The fact Harry was wearing the ring said that he was the Heir Black. And it was only through Sirius Black that he could have been the Heir Black.

Amelia Bones eventually stood up once more. "Heir Potter-Black," she said formally. "Would a copy of the trial transcript prove the guilt of Sirius Black and be enough to strip him of his Lordship as well as appease the Goblins?" Dumbledore knew the woman was a no nonsense type of person. At the moment, Sirius Black was believed to be guilty and would have a trial transcript.

Harry inclined his head. "I believe it would be Madam Bones. The Goblins will then likely chalk it up to a fluke."

"Dawlish!" Amelia barked out, making an Auror near the door jump. "Get down to the Hall of Records and bring me the Trial Transcript of Sirius Orion Black, immediately."

Dawlish snapped off a salute before rushing out. While perhaps not the best Auror available in Dumbledore's opinion, he would do his duty at this time without hesitation.

Harry remained standing a moment longer before he drew his wand. A few quick swishes and slashes and he had conjured a simple wooden chair to sit in. There were more than a few whispers at the advanced form of magic as Harry sat down, tucking his wand away and folding his hands in his lap.

It was nearly thirty minutes before Dawlish came back, breathing heavily, showing he had been running. He took a moment to compose himself. "Madam Bones… there's a problem." Dumbledore watched as Harry turned his head at that phrase, glancing to Dawlish. The Auror swallowed slightly. "There are no records for Sirius Orion Black." He said trying to stand firm. "There are no trial transcripts for when he was thrown into Azkaban at all."

Amelia stood up once more. "Chief Warlock?" she asked, unfortunately having to defer to him for this one given it was a prisoner inside of Azkaban.

But Dumbledore wasn't going to block it. Crouch had told him that Sirius had confessed and was convicted. "Dawlish get Auror Hestia Jones and bring Sirius Orion Black here, immediately!" Dumbledore was quite angry now. Even the darker families of the Wizengamot weren't going to deny the trial. An Heir had been thrown into Azkaban without one.

It could have happened to any of their heirs.

Harry, Dumbledore noted, continued to eerily sit right where he was. He seemed so still and distant. He showed no reaction to the fact that Sirius was going to be there.

After quite some time of the Wizengamot speaking to themselves, Harry stood up and grabbed his chair, moving it to the far side of the room, into the shadows slightly. He sat down in it once more.

Not ten minutes later, the doors opened once more with Aurors Dawlish and Jones escorting Sirius into the Wizengamot, he was bound in chains around his wrists and shackles on his ankles.

Dumbledore noted the man looked rougher. He had a full beard of shaggy hair that seemed to blend in with the matted mop he had on the top of his head. He looked skinny and gaunt, no longer the lean man he once had been. The clothes were thread bare, just barely hanging onto him. And the man looked dirty and grimy.

The Chair was brought in, and Sirius was sat down into it, magical suppression manacles being placed upon him. Dumbledore looked at the nonchalant way Sirius sat in the chair, as though whatever outcome he expected was a sure thing. Dumbledore was saddened to see that one of his favorite pupils had been pushed to the darkness so badly. How could this young man have been swayed to betray his friends?

"Sirius Orion Black," Dumbledore started. "You have been brought here today to receive a fair trial which, due to an investigation, we have been led to believe you have been denied. On the account of betraying the Potter family to the Dark Lord Voldemort, how do you plead?" he asked.

"Not Guilty!" Sirius rasped out. His voice was hoarse, but it was firm.

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped upon him. "On the account of thirteen Murders, twelve Muggles and the wizard Peter Pettigrew, how do you plead?" Dumbledore asked, taking a moment to lick his lips.

"Not Guilty!" Sirius rasped out once more.

"Sirius Orion Black, do you consent to take a dose of Veritaserum to be questioned under the effects for the court?" Dumbledore asked. How wrong could he have been?

"Objection Chief Warlock!" Lord Alexander Flint stood up. "Veritaserum can be blocked using Occlumency and is not admissible in court."

Augusta Longbottom stood up before Dumbledore could say anything. "Occlumency is known to be weakened by prolonged effects of Dementors Lord Flint. I daresay after ten years, any Occlumency on Lord Black's part will be negligible, probably of that of someone just barely hearing of the art, if that even. It would take an experience Healer well versed in the Mental Arts just to help Lord Black build his barriers back up."

"Objection withdrawn." Lord Flint said, sitting down. He glared at the Dowager Longbottom as he did so.

Dumbledore looked down to Sirius. "Lord Black?" he prompted.

"I do consent to taking Veritaserum Chief Warlock." Sirius said.

Dumbledore prompted one of the Aurors nearby to action. He carefully watched as Sirius took the required three drops onto his tongue. "Is your name Sirius Orion Black?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Sirius responded.

"Were you born September 22nd of 1959?" Dumbledore asked. They were basic diagnostic questions.

"Yes." Sirius responded.

"Have you spent the last eleven years in Azkaban?" Dumbledore asked, wording the question exactly how he wanted it.

"No." Sirius said. "I spent ten years and a handful of months."

Dumbledore nodded, the three basic diagnostic questions, two yes and one no, were answered. "You pleaded 'Not Guilty' to betraying James and Lily Potter in 1981. Did you tell Lord Voldemort where the couple was hidden at?"

"No, I couldn't." Sirius said, muttering going about the room quite quickly. "And even if I could, I never would have. I would have died to protect those two."

"Do you know the sort of defenses that surrounded the Potters at the time?" Dumbledore asked. He knew, having helped with a few of them, but needed to ask the question.

"Some basic detection wards coupled with a Fidelius Charm cast by Lily. The Secret-Keeper was Peter Pettigrew." Sirius responded, many mutterings quickly going about the room.

Dumbledore leaned in over his desk slightly. "Why is it then that everyone believed you to be the Secret-Keeper Lord Black?" Dumbledore asked.

"It was a ploy. It would keep Peter safe," Sirius' voice got stronger the more he talked. "We didn't know who to trust, so I was to be a cold trail and Peter would be safe. Unfortunately the rat-bastard went to the maniac after them anyways."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked briefly to the corner of the room where Harry still sat stock still, watching the proceedings as though they didn't involve him in the slightest. Dumbledore focused once more on Sirius. "You pleaded 'Not Guilty' to the charge of twelve murders, eleven Muggles and Peter Pettigrew himself. If you were not responsible, then who was?" Dumbledore asked.

"Peter." Sirius said. "I had chased him down, hoping to bring him to justice for what he did. He shouted out how I betrayed James and Lily. He then used a blasting charm on a gas main, blowing up the street and the Muggles. I had barely drawn up a shield to protect myself from the blast."

"Yet only the left pinky finger of Peter Pettigrew was left after the explosion." Dumbledore said. "Did you attack Peter after the blast?"

"No." Sirius said. "Peter, James, and myself were all unregistered Animagi. Peter cut his own finger off and transformed into a rat, scurrying off into the sewers with dozens more. By the time I was able to get ready to give chase, the Aurors had arrived and taken me into custody."

"Bartimus Crouch says that you confessed to killing James and Lily Potter." Dumbledore began. "Why would he say this?"

"After being taken into custody, I broke down. I remember just sobbing, saying I had killed James and Lily. It had been my suggestion to use Peter as the Secret-Keeper. I was chucked into Azkaban shortly afterwards."

Dumbledore mulled the words over and gave the order for the antidote to be administered. "All those to find Lord Sirius Orion Black 'Not Guilty' on the charges of betraying the Potter Family to Lord Voldemort and twelve counts of murder?" Dumbledore quickly counted the wands being held in the air. "All those who find Lord Sirius Orion Black guilty?" A few wands went up, given the last bit of what Sirius said. "All those that abstain?" A few wands went up, mostly from the Dark sect who did not want to be shown in a bad light.

However the majority ruled. "Lord Sirius Orion Black, you are hereby found Not Guilty on the charges of betraying the Potter Family to a known terrorist, and twelve counts of Murder. Furthermore, due to the negligence of the Ministry of Magic, you shall be awarded ten thousand Galleons for each year you were in Azkaban prison, as well as all medical bills paid for by the Ministry." Dumbledore said. "Due to your own admission of being an illegal Animagus, you are hereby fined ten thousand Galleons and are required to register by the fifteenth of January or face six months in Azkaban Prison."

Dumbledore flicked his wand at the chair that Sirius sat in, the chains falling from his body. The man slumped forward, breathing heavily and sobbing slightly. Murmurs went about the chambers, at least until Harry stood up once more.

The only sounds were from Sirius crying into his hands, thankful that he was free as Harry moved to step up just beside Sirius. "Members of the Wizengamot," Harry started, getting Sirius to snap up and look to Harry with wide eyes. "I do believe that the Goblins shall find this answer to their queries acceptable enough to avoid all out war.

"Before I part, I wish to offer a word of advice, based upon what my Account Managers have told me. The Goblins are always willing to go to War, to fight and battle and spill the blood of their enemies until it runs through the streets. But if there is a more profitable venue available, they will take it… for a time. The Magicals of Britain bring a lot of profit through Gringotts, but not enough to stay their axes forever. I was asked to speak with you because they wanted a more profitable ending to their queries, instead of bloodshed on both sides." Harry's words were like icy water being thrown upon all of them.

Sirius stood up, turning to face Harry with tears in his eyes. For a moment, Dumbledore was worried. He couldn't quite put his hand on what it was, on why he thought that way.

But those fears were unfounded. Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius and just held him close for a moment. Sirius wrapped Harry up in a tight hug, desperate hug.

Harry released Sirius and then helped the man begin to leave the Wizengamot chambers.

Dumbledore heard whispers go abound, questions of what to do being bounced around. But he blocked them all out as he was deep in thought. How many things had he missed over the years because he had other duties he needed to attend to? How many events like what happened with Snape and Sirius had passed under his nose?

Eventually he stood up and a hush fell over the Wizengamot chamber. "A gross injustice occurred ten years ago." Dumbledore said slowly. "The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time, Bartimus Crouch, had told me that Sirius Black had admitted to the crimes and Barty had just put Sirius in Azkaban without a trial.

"Today has been yet another example of what I have been told many times over the years by many people. I am stretched too thin with my duties of all my offices." Dumbledore said and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. "Effective immediately, I am stepping down as both Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump." He said, feeling the magic that had entered him as he swore into both offices leave him.

"I recommend either Amos Diggory or Augusta Longbottom as my replacement for Chief Warlock. Both are fair and will follow the letter of the law in its entirety." Dumbledore spoke. "Teaching has always been my calling, and as such I shall dedicate my focus to Hogwarts. However, should the next Chief Warlock need assistance, I will be an owl away." Dumbledore then stepped down from the box he sat at, and left the Wizengamot behind.

How many more mistakes would he have made had he stayed? How many had he already made? Such thoughts constantly swirled in his mind.

-_Scene Break-_

Hunger. The sensation gnawed at it, consumed it.

The fire had been exquisite. The black tar like substance flowed over the floor, black and purple flames dancing along its surface, glinting off of broken glass absorbed into its mass. The fluids contained within the bottles had been difficult to process, even a little painful, but as with all things it was consumed.

It wasn't enough though.

It was still so hungry. It was just barely aware. It had tried to consume the stones around it, but that had been impossible. It couldn't wrap around it, it couldn't engulf it. But it had made some headway. It was aware, as limited as its conscious was.

So hungry.

It could feel something close… Food. Delicious, glorious food.

It surged forward into the next room. A large mass was in the room, its life force strong. The black tar surged at it, quickly covering over it. The flames licked at the creature's leather like skin, eating through it until blood spilled out.

It surged upwards as the creature thrashed, clawing at its skin to remove it. It screeched again in absolute agony, before it was silenced as its mouth was filled with its glorious presence. It filled the creature until the creature's belly ruptured, its nostrils bled out its form, and the eyes began run with its form.

A massive mountain troll, deep inside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, placed as a protector, was quickly engulfed and consumed, its brute strength and size and magically resistant skin absolutely nothing against the hungry predator.

-End Chapter-

A/N: So yeah, most of this chapter I've had up in my head since the beginning. A few things were added here and there, but this is the finished product. We still have about four chapters to go. Five at most, three at the very least.

HBW, signing out.


End file.
